ged to call me
'excellency.' But my marriage brought me only cares, not even a title."

"Do not forget a lovely daughter, Clotilda. Our Marie is beautiful,
wise, and good, and through her you will yet have tranquil happiness.
For you say the king has granted all we wish."

"Every thing!" repeated the wife, with emphasis. "We have at last
finished with want and care, and can count upon an independent, quiet
old age, for God has been gracious, and forced you, from the gout, to
give up gambling, and we are freed from the misery which has so often
threatened us from your unhappy passion."

"At the beginning, I played from passion; afterward, I only played to
win back what I had lost."

"And in that manner played away all we possessed, and played upon your
word of honor, so that for years the half of our pension went to pay
your gambling-debts. Heaven be thanked, the king did not know it, or we
would have experienced still worse!"

"I pray you, beloved Clotilda, do not fret yourself needlessly about the
past; it is all over, and, as you say, I am unfortunately a prisoner in
the house from the gout, which shields me from the temptation."

"I did not say unfortunately; I said 'Heaven be praised, the gout had
put an end to your fickle life.'"

"Then, thank Heaven, my dear; we will not quarrel about it. It is past,
and, as the king has granted all, we shall have a pleasant life now."

"We will soon receive from our son-in-law a yearly pension, which will
be paid to me, and I shall spend it."

The general sighed. "In that case I fear that I shall not get much of
it."

"At any rate, more than I have ever received from your pension."

"There is but one thing wanting," replied the general, evasively,
"Marie's consent."

Madame von Werrig gave a short, gruff laugh, which did not in the least
brighten her sullen face. "We will not ask her consent, but command it."

The general remarked, timidly, shrugging his shoulders, "Marie had a
very decided character, and--"

"What do you hesitate to speak out for? What--and--"

"I think she still loves the Conrector Moritz."

A second laugh, somewhat menacing, sounded like a challenge. "The
schoolmaster!" she cried, contemptuously.

"Let her dare to tell me again she loves the schoolmaster; she the
daughter of a general, and a native-born countess of the empire!"

"My dear, it was your fault--the only fault you ever committed, perhaps.
How could you let such a young, handso