lly speaking," said Maximilian; "but
the gentle voice which usually has such power over me fails to convince
me to-day."

"I feel the same as regards yourself." said Valentine; "and I own that,
if you have no stronger proof to give me"--

"I have another," replied Maximilian; "but I fear you will deem it even
more absurd than the first."

"So much the worse," said Valentine, smiling.

"It is, nevertheless, conclusive to my mind. My ten years of service
have also confirmed my ideas on the subject of sudden inspirations, for
I have several times owed my life to a mysterious impulse which directed
me to move at once either to the right or to the left, in order to
escape the ball which killed the comrade fighting by my side, while it
left me unharmed."

"Dear Maximilian, why not attribute your escape to my constant prayers
for your safety? When you are away, I no longer pray for myself, but for
you."

"Yes, since you have known me," said Morrel, smiling; "but that cannot
apply to the time previous to our acquaintance, Valentine."

"You are very provoking, and will not give me credit for anything; but
let me hear this second proof, which you yourself own to be absurd."

"Well, look through this opening, and you will see the beautiful new
horse which I rode here."

"Ah, what a beautiful creature!" cried Valentine; "why did you not bring
him close to the gate, so that I could talk to him and pat him?"

"He is, as you see, a very valuable animal," said Maximilian. "You know
that my means are limited, and that I am what would be designated a man
of moderate pretensions. Well, I went to a horse dealer's, where I saw
this magnificent horse, which I have named Medeah. I asked the price;
they told me it was 4,500 francs. I was, therefore, obliged to give it
up, as you may imagine, but I own I went away with rather a heavy heart,
for the horse had looked at me affectionately, had rubbed his head
against me and, when I mounted him, had pranced in the most delightful
way imaginable, so that I was altogether fascinated with him. The same
evening some friends of mine visited me,--M. de Chateau-Renaud, M.
Debray, and five or six other choice spirits, whom you do not know, even
by name. They proposed a game of bouillotte. I never play, for I am not
rich enough to afford to lose, or sufficiently poor to desire to gain.
But I was at my own house, you understand, so there was nothing to be
done but to send for the cards, which I d