es were thrown away; he would have advanced of his own
accord.

"_I_ shall not die for you, I will live for you," he cried audaciously
one evening; he meant to have no more of M. de Cante-Croix, and gave
Louise a glance which told plainly that a crisis was at hand.

Startled at the progress of this new love in herself and her poet,
Louise demanded some verses promised for the first page of her album,
looking for a pretext for a quarrel in his tardiness. But what became
of her when she read the following stanzas, which, naturally, she
considered finer than the finest work of Canalis, the poet of the
aristocracy?--

The magic brush, light flying flights of song--
To these, but not to these alone, belong
My pages fair;
Often to me, my mistress' pencil steals
To tell the secret gladness that she feels,
The hidden care.

And when her fingers, slowlier at the last,
Of a rich Future, now become the Past,
Seek count of me,
Oh Love, when swift, thick-coming memories rise,
I pray of Thee.
May they bring visions fair as cloudless skies
Of happy voyage o'er a summer sea!

"Was it really I who inspired those lines?" she asked.

The doubt suggested by coquetry to a woman who amused herself by playing
with fire brought tears to Lucien's eyes; but her first kiss upon his
forehead calmed the storm. Decidedly Lucien was a great man, and she
meant to form him; she thought of teaching him Italian and German and
perfecting his manners. That would be pretext sufficient for having him
constantly with her under the very eyes of her tiresome courtiers. What
an interest in her life! She took up music again for her poet's sake,
and revealed the world of sound to him, playing grand fragments of
Beethoven till she sent him into ecstasy; and, happy in his delight,
turned to the half-swooning poet.

"Is not such happiness as this enough?" she asked hypocritically; and
poor Lucien was stupid enough to answer, "Yes."

In the previous week things had reached such a point, that Louise had
judged it expedient to ask Lucien to dine with M. de Bargeton as a
third. But in spite of this precaution, the whole town knew the state of
affairs; and so extraordinary did it appear, that no one would believe
the truth. The outcry was terrific. Some were of the opinion that
society was on the eve of cataclysm. "See what comes of Liberal
doctrines!" cried others.

Then it was that the jealous du Chatelet discovered that