bathe
in the sea, and seen it stand half breathless, half terrified, yet
trying hard to be brave, you know just the expression that was on the
face of the child-like deceiver. With baby-like courage she smiled upon
them all.

Now the next person who entered the room was the notary himself. He was
a gentleman of manners; he bowed with great gallantry to the ladies, not
excepting Celeste.

'She is a child, and has had no chance to learn the arts of cunning,'
cried the Russian lady, who had thought that she knew the world.

The notary bowed to her in particular. 'Madam, the true artist is born,
not made.'

Then he looked at Celeste again. There were two kinds of admiration in
his glance--one for her face, the other for her cleverness. He looked at
the weeping husband with no admiration at all, but the purpose in his
mind was steady as his clear grey eye, unmoved by emotion.

'I have taken the trouble to walk so far,' said he, 'to tell this young
man what, perhaps, I ought to have mentioned when he was at my office.
Happily, the evil can be remedied. It is the law of our land that if the
fortune has been misrepresented, a divorce can be obtained.'

Celeste's courage vanished with her triumph. She covered her face. The
husband had turned round; he was looking eagerly at the notary and at
his cowering bride.

'Ah, Heaven!' cried the two matrons, 'must it be?'

'I have walked so far to advise,' said the notary.

All this time Marie was sitting upon the piano-stool; she had turned it
half-way round so that she could look at the people. She was not pretty,
but, as the morning light struck full upon her face, she had the
comeliness that youth and health always must have; and more than that,
there was the light of a beautiful soul shining through her eyes, for
Marie was gentle and submissive, but her mind and spirit were also
strong; the individual character that had grown in silence now began to
assert itself with all the beauty of a new thing in the world. Marie had
never acted for herself before.

She began to speak to the notary simply, eagerly, as one who could no
longer keep silence.

'It would be wrong to separate them, monsieur.'

Madame Verine chid Marie; the notary, no doubt just because he was a man
and polite, answered her.

'This brave young fellow does not deserve to be thus fooled. I shall be
glad to lend him my aid to extricate himself.'

'He does deserve it,' cried Marie. 'Long ago he pretended