of his life. Where were the high-strung nerves now,
the elastic frame, the bounding heart?

Heavily and slowly he arose from his bed, for it was time to do
so; and with a trembling hand and quivering knees he went through
the processes of the toilet, gashing his cheek with the razor,
and spilling the water over his well-polished boots. When he was
dressed, scarcely venturing to cast a glance in the mirror as he
passed it, he quitted the room and descended the stairs, taking
the key of the door with him, for the purpose of leaving it with
the porter; the man, however, being absent, he laid it on the table
in his lodge, and with a relaxed hand and languid step he proceeded
to the carriage which quickly conveyed him to the church, where
he was met by Natalie and her friends.

How difficult it was now to look happy, with that pallid face and
extinguished eye!

"How pale you are! Has anything happened? You are surely ill?" were
the exclamations that assailed him on all sides.

He tried to carry the thing off as well as he could, but he felt
that the movements he would have wished to appear alert were only
convulsive, and that the smiles with which he attempted to relax
his features were but distorted grimaces. However, the church was
not the place for further inquiries; and whilst Natalie gently
pressed his hand in token of sympathy, they advanced to the altar,
and the ceremony was performed; after which they stepped into the
carriages waiting at the door, and drove to the apartments of Madame
de Bellefonds, where an elegant _dejeuner_ was prepared.

"What ails you, my dear husband?" inquired Natalie, as soon as they
were alone.

"Nothing, love," he replied; "nothing, I assure you, but a restless
night and a little overwork, in order that I might have to-day
free to enjoy my happiness."

"Are you quite sure? Is there nothing else?"

"Nothing, indeed, and pray don't take notice of it; it only makes
me worse."

Natalie was not deceived, but she saw that what he said was
true,--notice made him worse; so she contented herself with observing
him quietly and saying nothing; but as he felt she was observing
him, she might almost better have spoken; words are often less
embarrassing things than too curious eyes.

When they reached Madame de Bellefonds' he had the same sort of
scrutiny to undergo, till he grew quite impatient under it, and
betrayed a degree of temper altogether unusual with him. Then everybody
looked a