s sit
down here for a minute or two. I hope and believe it will soon be
better."

"You are right; see, here is a nice quiet corner, where you will be in
perfect safety from the researches of those who are lamenting your
absence," added Sarah, pronouncing the last words with marked emphasis.

The two ladies then seated themselves on a divan, almost concealed
beneath the clustering shrubs and overhanging plants.

"I said those who would be lamenting your absence, my dear
Clemence,--come, own that I deserve praise for so discreetly forming my
speech."

The marquise blushed slightly, cast down her eyes, but spoke not.

"How unreasonable you are!" exclaimed Sarah, in a tone of friendly
reproach. "Can you not trust me, my dear child?--yes, child; for am I
not old enough to be your mother?"

"Not trust you?" uttered the marquise, sadly; "alas! have I not on the
contrary confessed that to you which I should hardly have dared to own
to myself?"

"Well, then, come, rouse yourself; now, let us have a little talk about
him: and so you have really sworn to drive him to despair?"

"For the love of heaven," exclaimed Madame d'Harville, "think what you
are saying!"

"I tell you I know him better than you do, my poor child; he is a man of
cool and decided energy, who sets but little value on his life; he has
had misfortunes enough to make him quite weary of it; and it really
seems as if you daily found greater pleasure in tormenting him, and
playing with his feelings."

"Is it possible you can really think so?"

"Indeed, in spite of myself, I cannot refrain from entertaining that
opinion. Oh, if you but knew how over-susceptible some minds are
rendered by a continuance of sorrows and afflictions,--just now I saw
two large tears fall from his eyes, as he gazed on you."

"Are you quite sure of what you say?"

"Indeed, I am quite certain; and that, too, in a ballroom, at the risk
of becoming an object of general derision, if this uncontrollable misery
were perceived! Ah! let me tell you, a person must truly love to bear
all this, and even to be careless about concealing his sufferings from
the world."

"For the love of heaven, do not speak thus!" replied Madame d'Harville,
in a voice trembling with emotion. "Alas! you have touched me nearly; I
know too well what it is to struggle with a hidden grief, yet wear an
outward expression of calmness and resignation. Alas! alas! 'tis the
deep pity and commiseration I feel for hi