f you.' I fled, bewildered and half crazy, and since then I have gone
every evening to this street, and, concealed in the angle of the
opposite house, under the shade of a little balcony, I see, once in ten
times, a light in her room: that is my life, my happiness."

"What happiness!"

"Alas! I should lose this, if I tried for more."

"But in acting thus, you lose all the amusements of the world."

"My brother," said Henri, with a sad smile, "I am happy thus."

"Not so, mordieu! One monk in a family is enough."

"No railleries, brother."

"But let me say one thing!"

"What is it?"

"That you have been taken in like a schoolboy."

"I am not taken in; I only gave way to a power stronger than mine. When
a current carries you away, you cannot fight against it."

"But if it lead to an abyss?"

"You must be swallowed up!"

"Do you think so?"

"Yes!"

"I do not: and in your place--"

"What would you have done?"

"Enough, certainly, to have learned her name and--"

"Anne, you don't know her."

"No, but I know you, Henri. You had 50,000 crowns that I gave you out of
the last 100,000 the king gave to me."

"They are still in my chest, Anne; I have not touched one of them."

"Mordieu! If they were not there, you would be in a different position."

"Oh! my brother!"

"Certainly. An ordinary servant may be bought for ten crowns, a good
one for 100, an excellent one for 1,000, and a marvel for 3,000. Let us
see, then. Suppose this man to be the phoenix of all servants--the beau
ideal of fidelity, yet, by the pope! for 20,000 crowns you will buy him.
There would then remain 30,000 crowns for the phoenix of women, and all
would be settled."

"Anne!" sighed Henri, "there are people who cannot be bought; there are
hearts that the king is not rich enough to purchase."

"Well! perhaps so; but hearts are sometimes given. What have you done to
win that of the beautiful statue?"

"I believe, Anne, that I have done all I could."

"Really, Comte du Bouchage, you are mad. You see a woman, sad, solitary,
and melancholy, and you become more sad, more recluse, and more
melancholy than she. She is alone--keep her company; she is sad--be gay;
she regrets--console her, and replace him she regrets."

"Impossible! brother."

"Have you tried? Are you in love, or are you not?"

"I have no words to express how much!"

"Well! I see no reason to despair."

"I have no hope."

"At what time do you see her?"

"I hav