which are nothing but the results of her reading,
for a love-affair. Remember, she is just twenty. Girls fall in love with
themselves at that age; they dress to see themselves well-dressed. I
remember I used to make my little sister, now dead, put on a man's hat
and pretend we were monsieur and madame. You see, you had a very happy
youth in Frankfort; but let us be just,--Modeste is living here without
the slightest amusement. Although, to be sure, her every wish is
attended to, still she knows she is shut up and watched, and the life
she leads would give her no pleasure at all if it were not for the
amusement she gets out of her books. Come, don't worry yourself; she
loves nobody but you. You ought to be very glad that she goes into these
enthusiasms for the corsairs of Byron and the heroes of Walter Scott and
your own Germans, Egmont, Goethe, Werther, Schiller, and all the other
'ers.'"

"Well, madame, what do you say to that?" asked Dumay, respectfully,
alarmed at Madame Mignon's silence.

"Modeste is not only inclined to love, but she loves some man," answered
the mother, obstinately.

"Madame, my life is at stake, and you must allow me--not for my sake,
but for my wife, my colonel, for all of us--to probe this matter to the
bottom, and find out whether it is the mother or the watch-dog who is
deceived."

"It is you who are deceived, Dumay. Ah! if I could but see my daughter!"
cried the poor woman.

"But whom is it possible for her to love?" asked the notary. "I'll
answer for my Exupere."

"It can't be Gobenheim," said Dumay, "for since the colonel's departure
he has not spent nine hours a week in this house. Besides, he doesn't
even notice Modeste--that five-franc piece of a man! His uncle
Gobenheim-Keller is all the time writing him, 'Get rich enough to marry
a Keller.' With that idea in his mind you may be sure he doesn't know
which sex Modeste belongs to. No other men ever come here,--for of
course I don't count Butscha, poor little fellow; I love him! He is your
Dumay, madame," said the cashier to Madame Latournelle. "Butscha knows
very well that a mere glance at Modeste would cost him a Breton ducking.
Not a soul has any communication with this house. Madame Latournelle who
takes Modeste to church ever since your--your misfortune, madame, has
carefully watched her on the way and all through the service, and has
seen nothing suspicious. In short, if I must confess the truth, I have
myself raked all the