she, and she felt herself blush for the man who
did not blush himself, though he was committing perjury. The door of the
room was then opened, and the Prince de Maulear entered. He was pale and
agitated, though he had a smile on his lips. The smile, however, was
cold and evidently studied. "You are about to go out, Marquis," said he,
pointing to the hat which the latter had in his hand, without appearing
to remark either the trouble of Henri or the tears of Aminta.

"Excuse me, Monsieur, but I have an important appointment."

"I am sorry for your appointment," said the Prince, "but you must break
it."

"I cannot," muttered Henri.

"I hope you will," said the Prince, but his manner implied, "you must."

"Very well, sir," said the Marquis, putting down his hat and gloves,
with marked ill humor, "I obey you."

The Prince paid no further attention to him, but placed a chair near
Aminta, sat beside her, and pointing out a chair to the Marquis, bade
him do so also.

"We thought you unwell," said the Marquise to her father-in-law, making
an effort to restrain herself. "We are glad to see it is not the case."

"For three days," said the Prince, "I have not felt well. Too long a
walk for a person of my age, and some important affairs have fatigued
both my body and mind. I therefore determined to pass this evening
calmly and quietly with you--with my family. I do not," said he,
speaking to Henri, "expect it will be gay, but we cannot make a holiday
all the time. We must sometimes be calm, and reflect. You, my daughter,"
said he to Aminta, "may be sure I will do all I can to aid you. I know
you like to hear my old stories, but if you did not, and it were
unpleasant to you, you would bear with me. I am about to tell you a long
one." The Marquis and the Marquise listened to the Prince with surprise.
The tone of this preamble seemed to them so foreign to the ordinary
language and habits of the Prince, that they began to see something
stranger even than the piquant anecdotes and traditions he delighted in
narrating. "This story is a revelation of a story I long doubted whether
or not I should confide to you. Its avowal cannot but be painful to me,
and a man does not like to blush before his children."

"Why do so, then, my father?" said Henri.

"Because I wish to, monsieur," said the Prince sternly. "Because in the
course of his life man must suffer, when its suffering is good in its
effects, because thereby he may punish e