as woman's
loveliness had heretofore been an unturned page in the young man's life.
True, it pleased him in the same way as, and probably not to a greater
degree than, would the symmetrical elegance of a vase, or the tinted
beauty of a flower; but he had not yet known the limitless additional
charm given by life, variety, and emotion. Would he ever know it? or was
he so profoundly ignorant of the matter as to run in danger of finding
it out unexpectedly, and perhaps too late?

The strawberry pyramid sank and disappeared. Cornelia began anxiously to
wonder what was to be done now. Bressant sat enjoying his sensations,
and Professor Valeyon, who appeared to have arrived at some definite
conclusion after his meditations, rolled up his napkin and shoved it
into the ring, previous to setting it down with that peculiar tap which
announced that the meal was over.

On leaving the table, Bressant sauntered out of the room and on to the
balcony, with a disregard of what other people might intend, which
caused Cornelia to recollect her first impression of him. Nevertheless,
not knowing what else she could do, she followed, and found him leaning
over the railing, and looking about him with serene enjoyment. The
clouds had been mostly dispersed; a fresh air moved in the damp garden;
and Cornelia was soon aware that the mosquitoes were abroad. Her
muslin-covered arms and shoulders began to suffer.

Bressant raised himself at her approach, and stood with one hand
against the railing, looking down upon her with a half-smile of interest
and satisfaction, which made Cornelia feel not so much like a human
being, as some rare natural curiosity which he was glad to have the
opportunity of examining.

"You are one of the daughters?" said he, with the sudden scrutinizing
contraction of the eyebrows that often accompanied his questions. "There
are two, aren't there? Which one are you?"

"I'm Cornelia," replied she, provoked, as the words left her mouth, that
she had not said "Miss Valeyon." But the question had surprised her out
of her presence of mind, and the necessity of speaking loud, if nothing
else, hindered her from making the correction.

"Is the other any thing like you?" resumed he, after a moment's more
contemplation, which, spite of its directness, had in it a certain
element of unsophisticatedness that prevented it from seeming rude.

"Who, Sophie?" exclaimed the young lady, bursting forth into an
unexpected gurgle of laug