s
eyrie. I have long traversed the world in pursuit of rank, fortune and
family which I was burning to lay at thy feet. Fortune has obeyed me as
a slave: she knows in what school I learned the art of controlling her.
I have gone through Paris and Germany like a victorious meteor led by
its star. I have everywhere associated as an equal with the powers of
Earth, and made the trumpet of truth resound in the halls of kings. I
have put my foot on the throat of greedy Avarice, and snatched from him
a part, at least, of the treasures which he had stolen from
too-confiding Honor. One only blessing is denied me: the son I hoped to
see has escaped the lynx-eyes of paternal love. Neither have I found the
ancient object of my first affections. But what matters it? I shall feel
the want of nothing, if you fill for me the place of all. What do we
wait for now? Are you deaf to the voice of Happiness which calls you?
Let us go to the temple of the laws, then you shall follow me to the
foot of the altar; a priest shall consecrate our bonds, and we will go
through life leaning on one another, I like the oak sustaining weakness,
thou like the graceful ivy ornamenting the emblem of strength."[10]

Clementine remained a few moments without answering, as if stunned by
the Colonel's vehement rhetoric. "Monsieur Fougas," she said to him, "I
have always obeyed you, I promise to obey you all my life. If you do not
wish me to marry poor Leon, I will renounce him. I love him devotedly,
nevertheless, and a single word from him arouses more emotion in my
heart than all the fine things you have said to me."

"Good! Very good!" cried the Aunt. "As for me, sir, although you have
never done me the honor to consult me, I will tell you my opinion. My
niece is not at all the woman to suit you. Were you richer than M. de
Rothschild and more illustrious than the Duke of Malakoff, I would not
advise Clementine to marry you."

"And why, chaste Minerva?"

"Because you would love her fifteen days, and then, at the first sound
of cannon, be off to the wars! You would abandon her, sir, just as you
did that unhappy Clementine whose misfortunes have been recounted to
us!"

"Zounds! Lady Aunt! I _do_ advise you to bestow your pity on _her_!
Three months after Leipzic, she married a fellow named Langevin at
Nancy."

"What do you say?"

"I say that she married a military commissary named Langevin."

"At Nancy?"

"At that identical town."

"This is strang