is so eloquent, such
a mighty power lies hid in restrained feelings. Who knows? Perhaps some
day or other:

And the little cripple, leaning over her work, started upon one of those
long journeys to the land of chimeras of which she had made so many
in her invalid's easychair, with her feet resting on the stool; one
of those wonderful journeys from which she always returned happy and
smiling, leaning on Frantz's arm with all the confidence of a beloved
wife. As her fingers followed her thought, the little bird she had in
her hand at the moment, smoothing his ruffled wings, looked as if he
too were of the party and were about to fly far, far away, as joyous and
light of heart as she.

Suddenly the door flew open.

"I do not disturb you?" said a triumphant voice.

The mother, who was slightly drowsy, suddenly raised her head.

"Ah! it's Monsieur Frantz. Pray come in, Monsieur Frantz. We're waiting
for father, as you see. These brigands of artists always stay out so
late! Take a seat--you shall have supper with him."

"Oh! no, thank you," replied Frantz, whose lips were still pale from
the emotion he had undergone, "I can't stop. I saw a light and I just
stepped in to tell you--to tell you some great news that will make you
very happy, because I know that you love me--"

"Great heavens, what is it?"

"Monsieur Frantz Risler and Mademoiselle Sidonie are engaged to be
married."

"There! didn't I say that all he needed was a good little wife,"
exclaimed Mamma Delobelle, rising and throwing her arms about his neck.

Desiree had not the strength to utter a word. She bent still lower
over her work, and as Frantz's eyes were fixed exclusively upon his
happiness, as Mamma Delobelle did nothing but look at the clock to see
whether her great man would return soon, no one noticed the lame girl's
emotion, nor her pallor, nor the convulsive trembling of the little bird
that lay in her hands with its head thrown back, like a bird with its
death-wound.

CHAPTER IV. THE GLOW-WORMS OF SAVIGNY

"SAVIGNY-SUR-ORGE.

"DEAR SMONIE:--We were sitting at table yesterday in the great
dining-room which you remember, with the door wide open leading to the
terrace, where the flowers are all in bloom. I was a little bored. Dear
grandpapa had been cross all the morning, and poor mamma dared not say
a word, being afraid of those frowning eyebrows which have always
laid down the law for her. I was thinking what a pity it was to be