masses of black hair surrounding her face
and giving it an ephemeral grace,--for all is fleeting in a woman;
her beauty of to-day is often not that of yesterday, fortunately for
herself, perhaps! The young man, who was still at an age when youth
delights in the nothings which are the all of love, watched eagerly for
each movement of the eyelids, and the seductive rise and fall of her
bosom as she breathed. Sometimes he fancied, suiting the tenor of his
thoughts, that he could see a meaning in the expression of the eyes and
the imperceptible inflection of the lips. Every gesture betrayed to
him the soul, every motion a new aspect of the young girl. If a thought
stirred those mobile features, if a sudden blush suffused the cheeks, or
a smile brought life into the face, he found a fresh delight in trying
to discover the secrets of this mysterious creature. Everything about
her was a snare to the soul and a snare to the senses. Even the
silence that fell between them, far from raising an obstacle to the
understanding of their hearts, became the common ground for mutual
thoughts. But after a while the many looks in which their eyes
encountered each other warned Marie de Verneuil that the silence was
compromising her, and she turned to Madame du Gua with one of those
commonplace remarks which open the way to conversation; but even in so
doing she included the young man.

"Madame," she said, "how could you put your son into the navy? have you
not doomed yourself to perpetual anxiety?"

"Mademoiselle, the fate of women, of mothers, I should say, is to
tremble for the safety of their dear ones."

"Your son is very like you."

"Do you think so, mademoiselle?"

The smile with which the young man listened to these remarks increased
the vexation of his pretended mother. Her hatred grew with every
passionate glance he turned on Marie. Silence or conversation, all
increased the dreadful wrath which she carefully concealed beneath a
cordial manner.

"Mademoiselle," said the young man, "you are quite mistaken. Naval men
are not more exposed to danger than soldiers. Women ought not to dislike
the navy; we sailors have a merit beyond that of the military,--we are
faithful to our mistresses."

"Oh, from necessity," replied Mademoiselle de Verneuil, laughing.

"But even so, it is fidelity," said Madame du Gua, in a deep voice.

The conversation grew lively, touching upon subjects that were
interesting to none but the three trave