ng away for a short time. That's all."

Monsieur de Moras seemed to have infinite difficulty in comprehending the
meaning of this speech; he remained for several seconds after Lucan had
ceased to speak, with wondering countenance and fixed gaze, as if trying
to find the solution of a riddle; then rising abruptly and grasping both
Lucan's hands:

"Ah! that's kind of you, that is!" he said with grave emotion.

And after another cordial grasp, he added gayly:

"But if you expect to stay in Sweden until I have married Clotilde, you
may begin building and even planting there, for I swear to you that you
shall stay long enough for either purpose."

"Is it possible that you do not love her?" said Lucan in a half whisper.

"I love her very much, on the contrary; I appreciate her, I admire her;
but she is a sister to me, purely a sister. The most delightful thing
about it, _mon cher_, is that it has always been my dream to have you and
Clotilde marry; only you seemed to be so cold, so little attentive, so
rebellious, particularly lately. Mon Dieu! how pale you are, George!"

The final result of this conversation was that Monsieur de Lucan, instead
of starting for Sweden, called a little later to see the Baroness de Pers,
to whom he exposed his aspirations, and who thought herself, as she
listened to him, in the midst of an enchanting dream. She had, however,
beneath her frivolous manners too profound a sentiment of her own dignity
and that of her daughter, to manifest in the presence of Monsieur de Lucan
the joy that overwhelmed her. Whatever desire she might have felt of
clasping immediately upon her heart this ideal son-in-law, she deferred
that satisfaction and contented herself with expressing to him her
personal sympathy. Appreciating, however, Monsieur de Lucan's just
impatience, she advised him to call that very evening upon Madame de
Trecoeur, of whose personal sentiments she was herself ignorant, but who
could not fail to meet his advances with the esteem and the consideration
due to a man of his merit and standing. Being left alone, the baroness
gave way to her feelings in a soliloquy mingled with tears; she, however,
purposely omitted to notify Clotilde, preferring with her maternal taste
to leave her the whole enjoyment of that surprise.

The heart of woman is an organ infinitely more delicate than ours. The
constant exercise which they give it develops within it finer and subtler
faculties than the dry mascul