, harmonized with his mental condition. It
was easier for him to hide his chagrin. "Some one else! Yes; that's it.
She loves some other fellow! how was it I did not find that out the very
first day?" Then he recalled how Reine shrank from him when he solicited
a caress; how she insisted on their betrothal being kept secret, and
how many times she had postponed the date of the wedding. It was evident
that she had received him only in self-defence, and on the pleading of
Julien de Buxieres. Julien! the name threw a gleam of light across his
brain, hitherto as foggy as the country around him. Might not Julien be
the fortunate rival on whom Reine's affections were so obstinately set?
Still, if she had always loved Monsieur de Buxieres, in what spirit of
perversity or thoughtlessness had she suffered the advances of another
suitor?

Reine was no coquette, and such a course of action would be repugnant to
her frank, open nature. It was a profound enigma, which Claudet, who had
plenty of good common sense, but not much insight, was unable to solve.
But grief has, among its other advantages, the power of rendering our
perceptions more acute; and by dint of revolving the question in his
mind, Claudet at last became enlightened. Had not Reine simply followed
the impulse of her wounded feelings? She was very proud, and when the
man whom she secretly loved had come coolly forward to plead the
cause of one who was indifferent to her, would not her self-respect
be lowered, and would she not, in a spirit of bravado, accept the
proposition, in order that he might never guess the sufferings of her
spurned affections? There was no doubt, that, later, recognizing that
the task was beyond her strength, she had felt ashamed of deceiving
Claudet any longer, and, acting on the advice of the Abbe Pernot, had
made up her mind to break off a union that was repugnant to her.

"Yes;" he repeated, mournfully to himself, "that must have been the way
it happened." And with this kind of explanation of Reine's actions, his
irritation seemed to lessen. Not that his grief was less poignant, but
the first burst of rage had spent itself like a great wind-storm, which
becomes lulled after a heavy fall of rain; the bitterness was toned
down, and he was enabled to reason more clearly.

Julien--well, what was the part of Julien in all this disturbance? "If
what I imagine is true," thought he, "Monsieur de Buxieres knows that
Reine loves him, but has he any r