e, was apt to think her fair cousin did him scant justice, and
that if she had been called on as his eulogist, oh! how far more
eloquently could she speak! In short, la petite Madelaine, inexperienced
as of course she was in such matters, saw with the acuteness of feeling,
that Walter had obtained an interest only in the vanity and self-love,
not in the heart of his fair mistress. "Poor Adrienne! she cannot help
it, if she _has no_ heart," was Madelaine's sage soliloquy. "Mais quel
dommage pour ce bon Walter, qui en a tant!"

"Le bon Walter" might possibly have made the same discovery, had the
unrestricted intercourse of the lovers been of long continuance; and he
might have also ascertained another point, respecting which certain
dubious glimmerings had begun at intervals to intrude themselves on his
meditations _couleur de rose_,--was it possible that the moral and
intellectual perfections of his idol _could_ be less than in perfect
harmony with her outward loveliness? The doubt was sacrilegious,
detestable, dismissed with generous indignation, but again and again
some demon (or was it his _good_ genius?) recalled a startling frown, an
incautious word or tone, a harsh or fretful expression from the eye and
voice of his beloved, addressed to _la petite cousine_ or to himself,
when in lightness of spirit, and frank-hearted kindness, he had laughed
and talked with the latter, as with a young engaging sister. And
then, except on one topic, his passion for la belle Adrienne, and her
transcendent charms, of which, as yet, he was ever ready to pour out
the heart's eloquent nonsense, somehow their conversations always
languished. She had no eye for the natural beauties, of which he was
an enthusiastic admirer; yawned or looked puzzled or impatient, when
he stopped to gaze upon some glorious sunset, or violet-hued distance,
melting into the roseate sky. And though she did not reject his
offering of wild roses, or dewy honeysuckles, it was received with a
half-contemptuous indifference, that invited no frequent renewal of the
simple tribute; and from the date of a certain walk, when the lover's
keen glance observed that the bunch of wild-flowers, carelessly dropt by
Adrienne a few minutes after he had given them to her, was furtively
picked up by la petite Madelaine as she followed in the narrow woodpath,
and placed as furtively within the folds of her fichu--if Monsieur
Walter, from that time forth, pulled a wild rose from the