for the petit maitre fashions of the day. Never had he felt
a thrill of such exquisite pleasure as when Amelie's hands arranged his
rough hair to her fancy.

"My blessed Amelie!" said he with emotion, pressing her finger to his
lips, "never since my mother combed my boyish locks has a woman's hand
touched my hair until now."

Leaning her head fondly against the shoulder of Pierre, she bade him
repeat to her again, to her who had not forgotten one word or syllable
of the tale he had told her before, the story of his love.

She listened with moistened eyelids and heaving bosom as he told her
again of his faithfulness in the past, his joys in the present, and his
hopes in the future. She feared to look up lest she should break the
charm, but when he had ended she turned to him passionately and kissed
his lips and his hands, murmuring, "Thanks, my Pierre, I will be a true
and loving wife to you!"

He strained her to his bosom, and held her fast, as if fearful to let
her go.

"Her image at that last embrace,
Ah! little thought he 'twas the last!"

Dim twilight crept into the valley. It was time to return home. Pierre
and Amelie, full of joy in each other, grateful for the happiest day
in their lives, hopeful of to-morrow and many to-morrows after it, and
mercifully blinded to what was really before them, rose from their seat
under the great spreading elm. They slowly retraced the path through the
meadow leading to the bridge, and reentered the highway which ran to the
city, where Pierre conducted Amelie home.

CHAPTER XLIX. THE MARKET-PLACE ON ST. MARTIN'S DAY.

The market-place then as now occupied the open square lying between
the great Cathedral of Ste. Marie and the College of the Jesuits. The
latter, a vast edifice, occupied one side of the square. Through its
wide portal a glimpse was had of the gardens and broad avenues of
ancient trees, sacred to the meditation and quiet exercises of the
reverend fathers, who walked about in pairs, according to the rule of
their order, which rarely permitted them to go singly.

The market-place itself was lively this morning with the number of carts
and stalls ranged on either side of the bright little rivulet which
ran under the old elms that intersected the square, the trees affording
shade and the rivulet drink for man and beast.

A bustling, loquacious crowd of habitans and citizens, wives and
maid-servants, were buying, selling, exchanging compli