ripple nearly
all he sought to know.

"Well, if that be so," he went on, "if we enrich the one we love, if
we please the spirit and withdraw the body, is not that the way to make
one's self beloved? At any rate it is the dream of your poor dwarf,--a
dream of yesterday; for to-day your mother gives me the key to future
wealth by promising me the means of buying a practice. But before I
become another Gobenheim, I seek to know whether this dream could be
really carried out. What do you say, mademoiselle, _you_?"

Modeste was so astonished that she did not notice the question. The trap
of the lover was much better baited than that of the soldier, for the
poor girl was rendered speechless.

"Poor Butscha!" whispered Madame Latournelle to her husband. "Do you
think he is going mad?"

"You want to realize the story of Beauty and the Beast," said Modeste at
length; "but you forget that the Beast turned into Prince Charming."

"Do you think so?" said the dwarf. "Now I have always thought that
that transformation meant the phenomenon of the soul made visible,
obliterating the form under the light of the spirit. If I were not loved
I should stay hidden, that is all. You and yours, madame," he continued,
addressing his mistress, "instead of having a dwarf at your service,
will now have a life and a fortune."

So saying, Butscha resumed his seat, remarking to the three
whist-players with an assumption of calmness, "Whose deal is it?" but
within his soul he whispered sadly to himself: "She wants to be loved
for herself; she corresponds with some pretended great man; how far has
it gone?"

"Dear mamma, it is nearly ten o'clock," said Modeste.

Madame Mignon said good-night to her friends, and went to bed.

They who wish to love in secret may have Pyrenean hounds, mothers,
Dumays, and Latournelles to spy upon them, and yet not be in any danger;
but when it comes to a lover!--ah! that is diamond cut diamond, flame
against flame, mind to mind, an equation whose terms are mutual.

On Sunday morning Butscha arrived at the Chalet before Madame
Latournelle, who always came to take Modeste to church, and he proceeded
to blockade the house in expectation of the postman.

"Have you a letter for Mademoiselle Mignon?" he said to that humble
functionary when he appeared.

"No, monsieur, none."

"This house has been a good customer to the post of late," remarked the
clerk.

"You may well say that," replied the man.

Modeste bot