ad gathered round her new hopes and delights. Thus this tree
became to him an object of strangely tender interest, and he cherished
the fancy that, in tending and guarding it, he was protecting the
fortunes and the happiness of poor Lucille.

Meanwhile, as a sort of beginning of that great fortune that awaited
him, he obtained employment as an under-gardener at the Chateau de
Charrebourg, which had just been let to a wealthy noble, whose millions
had elevated him (like Monsieur le Prun) from the bourgeoisie to his
present rank.

But we must return to the Chateau des Anges. Lucille's apartments were
situated at a side of the chateau overlooking a small court
communicating with the greater one at the front of the building; and
this narrow area was bounded by a lofty wall, which separated the other
pleasure-grounds from the park.

It was night; Lucille and her gentle companion, Julie, had been chatting
together, as young-lady friends will do, most confidentially. The little
maiden had detailed all her sadness and alarms. Her married companion
had been fluent and indignant upon her wrongs and disappointments. Each
felt a sort of relief, and drawn as it were into a securer intimacy, by
the absence of Monsieur le Prun, who was that night necessarily absent
upon business.

The conversation had now shifted to Julie's engagement.

"And so, I suppose, I must marry him. Is it not a cruel tyranny to
compel one who desires nothing but to live and die among good
Christians, in the quiet of a convent, to marry a person whom she does
not or cannot love?"

"Yes, Julie, so it seems; but you may yet be happier so married, than
leading the life you long for. Remember, Julie, he is not a man who has
outlived the warmth, and tenderness, and trust of youth. He is still
capable of a generous passion, and capable of inspiring one. There is no
grief like the tyranny of one whom law and not love has made your
master."

As they conversed, some cases of Lucille's lay open on the table before
her companion, who had been amusing herself in girlish fashion by the
varied splendor and exquisite taste of the jewelry they contained.

"This brooch," she said, taking up a miniature in enamel, representing
some youthful tradition of Monsieur le Prun's person, set round with
diamonds, "is set very like mine, but I hate to look at it."

"It represents, then----"

"The Marquis. Yes."

"The world calls him handsome, I am told."

"Yes, but somehow