d excuses, spoke of pressing affairs, of duties to
be attended to, of feeling suddenly unwell, and went out, clinging to
the walls.

His departure made the old card-player highly indignant. She turned to
her grand-daughter, who had gone to hide her confusion away from the
candles of the card table, and asked, "What is the matter with Daburon
this evening?"

"I do not know, madame," stammered Claire.

"It appears to me," continued the marchioness, "that the little
magistrate permits himself to take singular liberties. He must be
reminded of his proper place, or he will end by believing himself our
equal."

Claire tried to explain the magistrate's conduct: "He has been
complaining all the evening, grandmamma; perhaps he is unwell."

"And what if he is?" exclaimed the old lady. "Is it not his duty to
exercise some self-denial, in return for the honour of our company? I
think I have already related to you the story of your granduncle, the
Duke de St Hurluge, who, having been chosen to join the king's card
party on their return from the chase, played all through the evening and
lost with the best grace in the world two hundred and twenty pistoles.
All the assembly remarked his gaiety and his good humour. On the
following day only it was learned, that, during the hunt, he had fallen
from his horse, and had sat at his majesty's card table with a broken
rib. Nobody made any remark, so perfectly natural did this act of
ordinary politeness appear in those days. This little Daburon, if he is
unwell, would have given proof of his breeding by saying nothing about
it, and remaining for my piquet. But he is as well as I am. Who can tell
what games he has gone to play elsewhere!"

CHAPTER VII.

M. Daburon did not return home on leaving Mademoiselle d'Arlange. All
through the night he wandered about at random, seeking to cool his
heated brow, and to allay his excessive weariness.

"Fool that I was!" said he to himself, "thousand times fool to have
hoped, to have believed, that she would ever love me. Madman! how
could I have dared to dream of possessing so much grace, nobleness, and
beauty! How charming she was this evening, when her face was bathed in
tears! Could anything be more angelic? What a sublime expression her
eyes had in speaking of him! How she must love him! And I? She loves me
as a father, she told me so,--as a father! And could it be otherwise?
Is it not justice? Could she see a lover in a sombre and severe-