ssing separation has ended. Only conceive
my delight!"

"Can it be true?" cried Joseph, with tears in his eyes. "Can it really
be true, M. le Marquis? And now your life will be happy, for it was only
my lady's love that you required, or, rather, since her estrangement was
your sole misery, as you told me."

"And to whom but you should I have told it, my worthy old Joseph? Do
not you possess, also, a still sadder secret? But do not let us say
anything more of sorrows now,--it is too bright a time. You see,
perhaps, that I have been weeping? It is because this happiness has come
over me so suddenly, when I so little anticipated it! How weak I am!--am
I not?"

"Well, well, M. le Marquis, you may weep for joy as much as you please,
for you have wept long enough for pain; and now see, do not I do as you
do? They are right sort of tears, and I would not give them for ten
years more of life. I have now but one fear, and that is, not to be able
to prevent myself from falling at the feet of Madame la Marquise the
first time I see her."

"Silly old fellow! Why you are as weak as your master. And now I have
but one fear."

"And what is that?"

"That this will not last; I am too happy. What now is wanting to me?"

"Nothing,--nothing, M. le Marquis,--absolutely nothing."

"That is why I mistrust such perfect happiness,--too complete."

"Alas! If that is all, why, M. le Marquis--But no, I dare not."

"I understand you. Well, I believe your fears are vain. The change which
my happiness causes me is so intense, so complete, that I am almost sure
of being nearly cured."

"How?"

"My doctor has told me a hundred times that a violent emotion is
frequently sufficient either to bring on or to cure this terrible
malady."

"You are right, monsieur,--you are cured, and what a blessing that is!
Ah, as you say, M. le Marquis, the marquise is a good angel come down
from heaven; and I begin myself to be almost alarmed lest the happiness
is too great; but now I think of it, if you only want a small matter
just to annoy you, thank God, I have just the very thing!"

"What is it?"

"One of your friends has very luckily had a sword-wound, very slight, to
be sure; but that's all the same, it is quite enough for you, as you
desire to make a small black spot in your too happy day."

"What do you mean, and of whom do you speak?"

"The Duke de Lucenay."

"Is he wounded?"

"A scratch in the arm. M. the Duke came yesterday to call on