isage of Maurice. His eyes were of a darker blue; his
glossy hair was tinged with chestnut, while Bertha's shone with
unmingled gold; but, like Bertha's, his recreant locks had a strong
tendency to curl, and lay in rich clusters upon his brow, distressing
him by a propensity which he deemed effeminate. His mouth was as ripely
red as hers, but somewhat larger, firmer, and less bland in its
character. His eyebrows, too, were more darkly traced, supplying a want
only too obvious in her countenance. The resemblance, however,
disappeared in the forehead and classic nose, for the brow of Maurice
was broad and high, and the nose prominent, though finely shaped.

His form was manly without being strikingly tall. It was what might be
designated as a noble figure; but the term owed its appropriateness
partly to his refined and graceful bearing.

"My dear father, I am so glad to see you!--grandmother, it is refreshing
to find you looking as though you bade defiance to time;--and you, my
little cousin, how much you have improved! How lovely you have grown! A
year does a great deal for one's appearance."

"Yours, for instance," replied Bertha, saucily. "Well, there was
abundant room for improvement."

Maurice replied to her vivacious remark with a laugh of assent, and,
looking eagerly around, asked, "Where is Madeleine?"

"Madeleine is busy as usual," answered Bertha. "I warrant she is in some
remote corner of the chateau, mysteriously employed. She does not know
that you have arrived."

"And is she well? My father never once mentioned her in his letters. And
has she kept you company in growing so much handsomer during the last
year?"

"_Her_ beauty needed no heightening!" exclaimed Bertha, affectionately.
"But she develops new talents every day; she sings more delightfully
than ever; and lately she has commenced drawing from nature with the
most wonderful ease. You should see the flowers she first creates with
her pencil and then copies with her needle! I really think her needle
can paint almost as dexterously as the brush of any other artist."

The count exchanged a look with his mother, and whispered, "Do stop
her!"

The latter turned quickly to her grandson, and said, "Are you and Bertha
determined to spend the morning out of doors? Come, let us go in."

As they entered the drawing-room, the countess pointed to a seat beside
her.

"Maurice, leave your chattering little cousin, and sit down and give us
some account