sudden to this dear Alphonse!
You do not remember, then, how you wept at his departure, a year ago,
and how vexed you were with your brother who tried to tease you about
this beautiful affection, and how you swore that you would never have
any other husband than your cousin?"

"I was a simpleton, and Christian was right. Alphonse is only one year
older than I! Think of it, what a fine couple we should make! I know
that I am not very sensible, and so it is necessary that my husband
should be wise enough for both. Christian is nine years older than you,
is he not?"

"Do you think that is too much?" asked Madame de Bergenheim.

"Quite the contrary."

"What age should you like your husband to be?"

"Oh!--thirty," replied the young girl, after a slight hesitation.

"Monsieur de Gerfaut's age?"

They gazed at each other in silence. Octave, who, from his place of
concealment heard the whole of this conversation, noticed the sad
expression which passed over Clemence's face, and seemed to provoke
entire confidence. The young girl allowed herself to be caught by this
appearance of interest and affection.

"I will tell you something," said she, "if you will promise never to
tell a soul."

"To whom should I repeat it? You know that I am very discreet as to your
little secrets."

"It is because this might be perhaps a great secret," continued Aline.

Clemence took her sister-in-law's hand, and drew her down beside her.

"You know," said Aline, "that Christian has promised to give me a watch
like yours, because I do not like mine. Yesterday, when we were out
walking, I told him I thought it was very unkind of him not to have
given it to me yet. Do you know what he replied?--It is true that he
laughed a little--It is hardly worth while buying you one now; when you
are the Vicomtesse de Gerfaut, your husband will give you one.'"

"Your brother was joking at your expense; how could you be such a child
as not to perceive it?"

"I am not such a child!" exclaimed Aline, rising with a vexed air; "I
know what I have seen. They were talking a long time together in the
drawing-room last evening, and I am sure they were speaking of me."

Madame de Bergenheim burst into laughter, which increased her
sister-in-law's vexation, for she was less and less disposed to be
treated like a young girl.

"Poor Aline!" said the Baroness, at last; "they were talking about
the fifth portrait; Monsieur de Gerfaut can not find the name of th