e are not to be
recalled. You are scarcely eighteen years of age, and one day you
may--possibly--"

"Oh, think not I should ever regret my choice! There is no rest or peace
for me save in the solitude of a cloister. There I may be happy, if you
and my second mother will but continue to me your affection."

"The duties and consolations of a religious life," said Rodolph, "might,
certainly, if not cure, at least alleviate the anguish of your lacerated
and desponding mind, and although your resolution will cost me dear, I
cannot but approve of it."

"Rodolph!" cried the astonished Clemence, "do I hear aright? Is it
possible you--"

"Allow me more fully to explain myself," replied Rodolph. Then
addressing his daughter, he said, "But before an irrevocable decision is
pronounced, it would be well to ascertain if nothing more suitable, both
to your inclinations and our own, could be found for you than the life
of a nun."

Fleur-de-Marie and Clemence started at Rodolph's words and manner,
while, fixing an earnest gaze on his daughter, the prince said,
abruptly:

"What think you, my child, of your cousin, Prince Henry?"

The brightest blush spread over the fair face of Fleur-de-Marie, who,
after a momentary hesitation, threw herself weeping in her father's
arms.

"Then you love him, do you not, my darling child?" cried Rodolph,
tenderly pressing her hands. "Fear not to confide the truth to your best
friends."

"Alas!" replied Fleur-de-Marie, "you know not what it has cost me to
conceal from you the state of my heart! Had you questioned me on the
subject, I would gladly have told you all, but shame closed my lips, and
would still have done so, but for your inquiry into the nature of my
feelings."

"And have you any suspicion that Henry is aware of your love?"

"Gracious heavens, dearest father!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, shrinking
back in terror, "I trust not!"

"Do you believe he returns your affection?"

"Oh, no, no! I trust he does not! He would suffer too deeply."

"And what gave rise to the love you entertained for your cousin?"

"Alas, I know not! It grew upon me almost unconsciously. Do you remember
a portrait of a youth dressed as a page, in the apartments of the Abbess
de Ste. Hermangeld?"

"I know; it was the portrait of Henry."

"Believing the picture to be of distant date, I one day in your presence
remarked upon the extreme beauty of the countenance, when you jestingly
replied that it was the