f Paris. Little Jacquemin's article upon Prince Zilah's nautical
fete had created a furore. That little Jacquemin was a charming
fellow; Marsa knew him. No! Really? What! she didn't know Jacquemin
of 'L'Actualite'? Oh! but she must invite him to the wedding, he would
write about it, he wrote about everything; he was very well informed,
was Jacquemin, on every subject, even on the fashions.

"Look! It was he who told me that these sabots were to be worn.
The miserable things nearly madame break my neck when I entered the
carriage; but they are something new. They attract attention. Everybody
says, What are they? And when one has pretty feet, not too large, you
know," etc., etc.

She rattled on, moistening her pretty red lips with a lemonade, and
nibbling a cake, and then hastily departed just as Prince Andras's
carriage stopped before the gate. The Baroness waved her hand to him
with a gay smile, crying out:

"I will not take even a minute of your time. You have to-day something
pleasanter to do than to occupy yourself with poor, insignificant me!"

Marsa experienced the greatest delight in seeing Andras, and listening
to the low, tender accents of his voice; she felt herself to be loved
and protected. She gave herself up to boundless hopes--she, who had
before her, perhaps, only a few days of life. She felt perfectly happy
near Andras; and it seemed to her that to-day his manner was tenderer,
the tones of his voice more caressing, than usual.

"I was right to believe in chimeras," he said, "since all that I longed
for at twenty years is realized to-day. Very often, dear Marsa, when I
used to feel sad and discouraged, I wondered whether my life lay behind
me. But I was longing for you, that was all. I knew instinctively that
there existed an exquisite woman, born for me, my wife--my wife! and I
waited for you."

He took her hands, and gazed upon her face with a look of infinite
tenderness.

"And suppose that you had not found me?" she asked.

"I should have continued to drag out a weary existence. Ask Varhely what
I have told him of my life."

Marsa felt her heart sink within her; but she forced herself to smile.
All that Varhely had said to her returned to her mind. Yes, Zilah had
staked his very existence upon her love. To drag aside the veil from
his illusion would be like tearing away the bandages from a wound.
Decidedly, the resolution she had taken was the best one--to say
nothing, but, in the black sile