death. I really felt as if I had done something
frightfully improper."

"The French are so different from the Americans," said Mrs. Trent,
"particularly those of M. Villefort's class. They are beautifully
punctilious, but I don't call it quite comfortable, you know."

Her mother was not the only person who noticed a change in Bertha
Villefort. Before long it was a change so marked that all who saw her
observed it. She had become painfully frail and slight. Her face looked
too finely cut, her eyes had shadowy hollows under them, and were always
bright with a feverish excitement.

"What is the matter with your wife?" demanded Madame de Castro of M.
Villefort. Since their first meeting she had never loosened her hold
upon the husband and wife, and had particularly cultivated Bertha.

There was no change in the expression of M. Villefort, but he was
strangely pallid as he made his reply.

"It is impossible for me to explain, Madame."

"She is absolutely attenuated," cried Madame" "She is like a spirit.
Take her to the country--to Normandy--to the sea--somewhere! She will
die if there is not a change. At twenty, one should be as plump as a
young capon."

A few days after this, Jenny Trent ran in upon Bertha as she lay upon
a lounge, holding an open book, but with closed eyes. She had come to
spend the morning, she announced. She wanted to talk--about people,
about her dress, about her first ball which was to come off shortly.

"And Arthur says"--she began.

Bertha turned her head almost as Edmondstone had done.

"Arthur!" she repeated. For the second time Jenny felt a little
embarrassed.

"I mean M. Villefort," she said, hesitantly.

She quite forgot what she had been going to say, and for a moment or so
regarded the fire quite gravely. But naturally this could not last long.
She soon began to talk again, and it was not many minutes before she
found M. Villefort in her path once more.

"I never thought I could like a Frenchman so much," she said, in all
enthusiastic good faith. "At first, you know," with an apologetic half
laugh, "I wondered why you had not taken an American instead, when there
were so many to choose from, but now I understand it. What beautiful
tender things he can say, Bertha, and yet not seem in the least
sentimental. Everything comes so simply right from the bottom of his
heart. Just think what he said to me yesterday when he brought me those
flowers. He helps me with mine, and it is odd