-never will I consent,
whatever happens!"

At that moment the door was partly opened, and a servant announced
"Monsieur l'Abbe Bardin."

Madame d'Argy made a gesture which was anything but reverential.

"Well, to be sure--this is the right moment with a vengeance! What does
he want! Does he wish me to assist in some good work--or to undertake to
collect money, which I hate."

"Above all, mother," cried Fred, "don't expose me to the fatigue of
receiving his visit. Go and see him yourself. Giselle will take care of
your patient while you are gone. Won't you, Giselle?"

His voice was soft, and very affectionate. He evidently was not angry at
what she had dared to say, and she acknowledged this to herself with an
aching heart.

"I don't exactly trust your kind of care," said Madame d'Argy, with a
smile that was not gay, and certainly not amiable.

She went, however, because Fred repeated:

"But go and see the Abbe Bardin."

Hardly had she left the room when Fred got up from his sofa and
approached Giselle with passionate eagerness.

"Are you sure I am not dreaming," said he. "Is it you--really you who
advise me to marry Jacqueline?"

"Who else should it be?" she answered, very calm to all appearance.
"Who can know better than I? But first you must oblige me by lying down
again, or else I will not say one word more. That is right. Now keep
still. Your mother is furiously displeased with me--I am sorry--but
she will get over it. I know that in Jacqueline you would have a good
wife--a wife far better than the Jacqueline you would have married
formerly. She has paid dearly for her experience of life, and has
profited by its lessons, so that she is now worthy of you, and sincerely
repentant for her childish peccadilloes."

"Giselle," said Fred, "look me full in the face--yes, look into my eyes
frankly and hide nothing. Your eyes never told anything but the truth.
Why do you turn them away? Do you really and truly wish this marriage?"

She looked at him steadily as long as he would, and let him hold her
hand, which was burning inside her glove, and which with a great effort
she prevented from trembling. Then her nerves gave way under his long
and silent gaze, which seemed to question her, and she laughed, a laugh
that sounded to herself very unnatural.

"My poor, dear friend," she cried, "how easily you men are duped! You
are trying to find out, to discover whether, in case you decide upon
an honest act, a perfe