ife of M. de Breulh-Faverlay, and I have no
voice in the matter."

"But if you exert your influence?"

The Countess shook her head. "Once on a time," said she sadly, "I
reigned supreme over Octave's heart; I was the leading spirit of his
existence. Then he loved me; but I was insensible to the depths of his
affection, and wore out a love that would have lasted as long as life
itself. Yes, in my folly I slew it, and now----" She paused for a moment
as if to collect her ideas, and then added more slowly: "and now our
lives are separate ones. I do not complain; it is all my own fault; he
is just and generous."

"But surely you can make the effort?"

"But suppose Sabine loves M. de Breulh-Faverlay?"

"But, madame, a mother can always influence her daughter."

The Countess seized the doctor's hand, and grasped it so tightly that he
could hardly bear the pain.

"I must," said she in a hoarse whisper, "divulge to you the whole extent
of my unhappiness. I am estranged from my husband, and my daughter
dislikes and despises me. Some people think that life can be divided
into two portions, one consecrated to pleasure and excitement, and the
other to domestic peace and happiness; but the idea is a false one. As
youth has been, so will be age, either a reward or an expiation."

Dr. Hortebise did not care to follow this train of argument--for the
Count might enter at any moment, or a servant might come in to announce
dinner--and only sought to soothe the excited feelings of Madame de
Mussidan, and to prove to her that she was frightened by shadows, and
that in reality she was not estranged from her husband, nor did her
daughter dislike her; and finally a ray of hope illuminated the saddened
heart of the unfortunate lady.

"Ah, doctor!" said she, "it is only misfortune that teaches us to know
our true friends."

The Countess, like her husband, had now laid down her arms; she had made
a longer fight of it, but in both cases the result had been the same.
She promised that she would commence operations the next day, and do her
utmost to break off the present engagement.

Hortebise then took his leave, quite worn out with the severe conflict
he had waged during his two hours' interview with the Countess. In spite
of the extreme cold, the air outside seemed to refresh him considerably,
and he inhaled it with the happy feeling that he had performed his duty
in a manner worthy of all praise. He walked up the Rue de Faubourg Sain