ficial, however, for she could hardly breathe,
so great was her fear and her emotion. "My house is in the garb of
rejoicing."

"The prodigal? Do you mean your husband?" said Madame d'Argy,
maliciously.

"Oh! I despair of him," replied Giselle, lightly. "No, I speak of a
prodigal who did not go far, and who made haste to repent. I am speaking
of Jacqueline."

There was complete silence. The knitting-needles ticked rapidly, a
slight flush rose on the dark cheeks of Fred.

"All I beg," said Madame d'Argy, "is that you will not ask me to eat
the fatted calf in her honor. The comings and going of Mademoiselle de
Nailles have long ceased to have the slightest interest for me."

"They have for Fred at any rate; he has just proved it, I should say,"
replied Giselle.

By this time the others were as much embarrassed as Giselle. She saw it,
and went on quickly:

"Their names are together in everybody's mouth; you can not hinder it."

"I regret it deeply-and allow me to make one remark: it seems to me
you show a want of tact such as I should never have imagined in telling
us--"

Giselle read in Fred's eyes, which were steadily fixed on her, that he
was, on that point, of his mother's opinion. She went on, however, still
pretending to blunder.

"Forgive me--but I have been so anxious about you ever since I heard
there was to be a second meeting--"

"A second meeting!" screamed Madame d'Argy, who, as she read no paper
but the Gazette de France, or occasionally the Debats, knew nothing of
all the rumors that find their echo in the daily papers.

"Oh, 'mon Dieu'! I thought you knew--"

"You need not frighten my mother," said Fred, almost angrily; "Monsieur
de Cymier has written a letter which puts an end to our quarrel. It is
the letter of a man of honor apologizing for having spoken lightly,
for having repeated false rumors without verifying them--in short,
retracting all that he had said that reflected in any way on
Mademoiselle de Nailles, and authorizing me, if I think best, to make
public his retraction. After that we can have nothing more to say to
each other."

"He who makes himself the champion to defend a young girl's character,"
said Madame d'Argy, sententiously, "injures her as much as those who
have spoken evil of her."

"That is exactly what I think," said Giselle. "The self-constituted
champion has given the evil rumor circulation."

There was again a painful silence. Then the intrepid little woman