ly, like an epic poem: 'I am the nymph Calypso,
enamored of Telemachus.' Mystery and feigned names are the resources of
little minds. For my part I no longer answer masks--"

"I should love a woman who came to seek me," cried La Briere. "To all
you say I reply, my dear Canalis, that it cannot be an ordinary girl who
aspires to a distinguished man; such a girl has too little trust, too
much vanity; she is too faint-hearted. Only a star, a--"

"--princess!" cried Canalis, bursting into a shout of laughter; "only a
princess can descend to him. My dear fellow, that doesn't happen once
in a hundred years. Such a love is like that flower that blossoms every
century. Princesses, let me tell you, if they are young, rich, and
beautiful, have something else to think of; they are surrounded
like rare plants by a hedge of fools, well-bred idiots as hollow as
elder-bushes! My dream, alas! the crystal of my dream, garlanded from
hence to the Correze with roses--ah! I cannot speak of it--it is in
fragments at my feet, and has long been so. No, no, all anonymous
letters are begging letters; and what sort of begging? Write yourself to
that young woman, if you suppose her young and pretty, and you'll find
out. There is nothing like experience. As for me, I can't reasonably be
expected to love every woman; Apollo, at any rate he of Belvedere, is a
delicate consumptive who must take care of his health."

"But when a woman writes to you in this way her excuse must certainly
be in her consciousness that she is able to eclipse in tenderness and
beauty every other woman," said Ernest, "and I should think you might
feel some curiosity--"

"Ah," said Canalis, "permit me, my juvenile friend, to abide by the
beautiful duchess who is all my joy."

"You are right, you are right!" cried Ernest. However, the young
secretary read and re-read Modeste's letter, striving to guess the mind
of its hidden writer.

"There is not the least fine-writing here," he said, "she does not even
talk of your genius; she speaks to your heart. In your place I should
feel tempted by this fragrance of modesty,--this proposed agreement--"

"Then, sign it!" cried Canalis, laughing; "answer the letter and go to
the end of the adventure yourself. You shall tell me the results three
months hence--if the affair lasts so long."

Four days later Modeste received the following letter, written on
extremely fine paper, protected by two envelopes, and sealed with the
arms of