breeze.

"Even so will I do with my love," said the poetical shepherdess;
"I will scatter it on the winds of death."

"Adieu," she said, embracing poor old Babet; "I am going back to the
place I left so sillily. If you see Hector again, tell him I loved
him; but that he must forget me, as I forget the world, and myself."

As she said these words, she grew pale and staggered, but she
recovered by an effort, and walked away on the path that led to the
Chateau d'Urtis. When she came to the meadow, she saw at her feet
the crook she had broken in the morning. She lifted it, and took it
with her as the only memorial of Hector. The sun was sinking slowly,
and Daphne knelt down and said a prayer, pressing the crook to her
bosom--poor Daphne!

CHAPTER VII.

She did not find her mother at the chateau: Madame d'Urtis was
overjoyed to see her.

"Well, my lost sheep," she said, "you have come back again to the
fold."

"Yes," said Daphne, sadly; "I am come back never to stray again. See,
here is my broken crook, and Daphnis will never come to cut me
another."

She told every thing to Madame d'Urtis. The Duchess did not know
whether to laugh or scold; so she got over the difficulty by
alternately doing both.

In the Chateau de Langevy, Hector continued firm in the presence of
his father, and even of his cousin. He told them every thing exactly
as it occurred; and spoke so enthusiastically and so sincerely, that
the old Baron was somewhat softened. Clotilde herself was touched,
and pled in Hector's behalf. But the old Baron was firm, and his
only answer was, "In eight days he will forget all about her. I am
astonished, Clotilde, to see you reason so absurdly."

"Oh, my dear uncle!" said Clotilde, "I believe that those who reason
the worst on such a subject are the most reasonable."

"I tell you again, in a week he will have changed his divinity--you
know that very well; or I don't see the use of your having such
beautiful eyes."

"Be sure of this, uncle," replied Clotilde, in a more serious voice,
"Hector will never love me, and besides," she added, relapsing into
gaiety once more, "I don't like to succeed to another; I agree with
Mademoiselle de Scuderi, that, in love, those queens are the
happiest who create kingdoms for themselves in undiscovered lands."

"You read romances, Clotilde, so I shall argue with you no longer
about the phantom you call love."

Hector took his father on the weak side.

"If I