of her dream. It is evident that her journey has
thrown new light upon her situation. Something important has taken place
in her life. What is it? I neither know nor care to know. I accept
Louise as I find her with her present surroundings. Perhaps absence has
revealed to her, as it has to me, that another existence is necessary to
her. This at least is certain, she is less shy, less reserved, more
confiding; there is a tender grace in her manner unfelt before. When we
walk in the garden, she leans upon my arm, instead of touching it with
the tips of her fingers. Now, when I am with her, her cold reserve
begins to thaw, and instead of going on with her work, as formerly, she
rests her head on her hand and gazes at me with a dreamy fixedness
singular to behold. She seems to be mentally deliberating something, and
trying to come to a conclusion. May Eros, with his golden arrows, grant
that it prove favorable to me! It will prove so, or human will has no
power, and the magnetic fluid is an error!

We are sometimes alone, but that cursed door is never shut, and Madame
Taverneau paces up and down outside, coming in at odd moments to enliven
the conversation with a witticism, in which exercise the good woman,
unhappily, thinks she excels. She fears that Louise, who is not
accustomed to the usages of society, may tire me. I am neither a Nero
nor a Caligula, but many a time have I mentally condemned the honest
post-mistress to the wild beasts of the Circus!

To get Louise away from this room, whose architecture is by no means
conducive to love-making, I contrived a boating party to the Andelys,
with the respectable view of visiting the ruins of Richard
Coeur-de-Lion's fortress. The ascent is extremely rough, for the donjon
is poised, like an eagle's nest, upon the summit of a steep rock; and I
counted upon Madame Taverneau, strangled in her Sunday stays,
breathless, perspiring, red as a lobster put on hot-water diet, taking
time half-way up the ascent to groan and fan herself with her
handkerchief.

Alfred stopped by on his way from Havre, and for once in his life was in
season. I placed the rudder in his hands, begging at the same time that
he would spare me his fascinating smiles, winks and knowing glances. He
promised to be a stock and kept his word, the worthy fellow!

A fresh breeze sprang up in time to take us up the river. We found
Louise and Madame Taverneau awaiting us upon the pier, built a short
time since in or