so graciously that she seemed to accept the
courteous struggle into which all men like to draw a woman. They
persuaded themselves, half in jest, half in earnest, that they never
could be more to each other than they were at that moment. The young man
fancied, therefore, he might give reins to a passion that could have
no future; the young woman felt she might smile upon it. Marie suddenly
struck her foot against a stone and stumbled.

"Take my arm," said her companion.

"It seems I must," she replied; "you would be too proud if I refused;
you would fancy I feared you."

"Ah, mademoiselle," he said, pressing her arm against his heart that she
might feel the beating of it, "you flatter my pride by granting such a
favor."

"Well, the readiness with which I do so will cure your illusions."

"Do you wish to save me from the danger of the emotions you cause?"

"Stop, stop!" she cried; "do not try to entangle me in such boudoir
riddles. I don't like to find the wit of fools in a man of your
character. See! here we are beneath the glorious sky, in the open
country; before us, above us, all is grand. You wish to tell me that
I am beautiful, do you not? Well, your eyes have already told me so;
besides, I know it; I am not a woman whom mere compliments can please.
But perhaps you would like," this with satirical emphasis, "to talk
about your _sentiments_? Do you think me so simple as to believe that
sudden sympathies are powerful enough to influence a whole life through
the recollections of one morning?"

"Not the recollections of a morning," he said, "but those of a beautiful
woman who has shown herself generous."

"You forget," she retorted, laughing, "half my attractions,--a
mysterious woman, with everything odd about her, name, rank, situation,
freedom of thought and manners."

"You are not mysterious to me!" he exclaimed. "I have fathomed you;
there is nothing that could be added to your perfections except a little
more faith in the love you inspire."

"Ah, my poor child of eighteen, what can you know of love?" she said
smiling. "Well, well, so be it!" she added, "it is a fair subject of
conversation, like the weather when one pays a visit. You shall find
that I have neither false modesty nor petty fears. I can hear the word
love without blushing; it has been so often said to me without one
echo of the heart that I think it quite unmeaning. I have met with it
everywhere, in books, at the theatre, in society,--yes