n for two years, and does not know when she will see him."

"You don't say so!" said Madame de Kergarouet. "Poor lady! is she
legally separated?"

"No, by mutual consent," replied Camille.

"Ah, well! I understand that," said the viscountess boldly.

Old Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel, furious at being thus dragged into the
enemy's camp, had retreated to a short distance with her dear Charlotte.
Calyste, after looking about him to make sure that no one could see him,
seized the hand of the marquise, kissed it, and left a tear upon it.
Beatrix turned round, her tears dried by anger; she was about to utter
some terrible word, but it died upon her lips as she saw the grief on
the angelic face of the youth, as deeply touched by her present sorrow
as she was herself.

"Good heavens, Calyste!" said Camille in his ear, as he returned with
Madame de Rochefide, "are you to have _that_ for a mother-in-law, and
the little one for a wife?"

"Because her aunt is rich," replied Calyste, sarcastically.

The whole party now moved toward the inn, and the viscountess
felt herself obliged to make Camille a speech on the savages of
Saint-Nazaire.

"I love Brittany, madame," replied Camille, gravely. "I was born at
Guerande."

Calyste could not help admiring Mademoiselle des Touches, who, by the
tone of her voice, the tranquillity of her look, and her quiet manner,
put him at his ease, in spite of the terrible declarations of the
preceding night. She seemed, however, a little fatigued; her eyes were
enlarged by dark circles round them, showing that he had not slept; but
the brow dominated the inward storm with cold placidity.

"What queens!" he said to Charlotte, calling her attention to the
marquise and Camille as he gave the girl his arm, to Mademoiselle de
Pen-Hoel's great satisfaction.

"What an idea your mother has had," said the old maid, taking her
niece's other arm, "to put herself in the company of that reprobate
woman!"

"Oh, aunt, a woman who is the glory of Brittany!"

"The shame, my dear. Mind that you don't fawn upon her in that way."

"Mademoiselle Charlotte is right," said Calyste; "you are not just."

"Oh, you!" replied Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel, "she has bewitched you."

"I regard her," said Calyste, "with the same friendship that I feel for
you."

"Since when have the du Guenics taken to telling lies?" asked the old
maid.

"Since the Pen-Hoels have grown deaf," replied Calyste.

"Are you not in love with