d with such care to end my days
in?'

"'To end your days!' exclaimed I with visible alarm. 'Has it never
struck you that a time would come when you could no longer work,
when competition will lower the price of flowers and articles of
fashion----?'

"'I have already saved a thousand crowns,' she said.

"'Heavens! what privations such a sum must represent!' I exclaimed.

"'Leave me,' said she, 'till to-morrow. This evening I am not myself; I
must be alone. Must I not save my strength in case of disaster? For,
if you should learn anything, others besides you would be informed, and
then--Good-night,' she added shortly, dismissing me with an imperious
gesture.

"'The battle is to-morrow, then,' I replied with a smile, to keep up the
appearance of indifference I had given to the scene. But as I went down
the avenue I repeated the words:

"'The battle is to-morrow.'

"Octave's anxiety was equal to Honorine's. The Count and I remained
together till two in the morning, walking to and fro by the trenches of
the Bastille, like two generals who, on the eve of a battle, calculate
all the chances, examine the ground, and perceive that the victory must
depend on an opportunity to be seized half-way through the fight. These
two divided beings would each lie awake, one in the hope, the other
in agonizing dread of reunion. The real dramas of life are not in
circumstances, but in feelings; they are played in the heart, or, if you
please, in that vast realm which we ought to call the Spiritual World.
Octave and Honorine moved and lived altogether in the world of lofty
spirits.

"I was punctual. At ten next evening I was, for the first time, shown
into a charming bedroom furnished with white and blue--the nest of this
wounded dove. The Countess looked at me, and was about to speak, but was
stricken dumb by my respectful demeanor.

"'Madame la Comtesse,' said I with a grave smile.

"The poor woman, who had risen, dropped back into her chair and remained
there, sunk in an attitude of grief, which I should have liked to see
perpetuated by a great painter.

"'You are,' I went on, 'the wife of the noblest and most highly
respected of men; of a man who is acknowledged to be great, but who is
far greater in his conduct to you than he is in the eyes of the world.
You and he are two lofty natures.--Where do you suppose yourself to be
living?' I asked her.

"'In my own house,' she replied, opening her eyes with a wide stare of
aston