of
you should have won your affection; then on the other hand, my poor dear
child, your past misfortunes forbade me to encourage the idea of uniting
you to your cousin, to whom I several times spoke in a manner very
different to the tone I should have adopted, had I contemplated
bestowing on him your hand.

"Thus placed in a position so delicate, I endeavoured to preserve a
strict neutrality, discouraging Prince Henry's attentions by every means
in my power, and yet manifesting towards himself the same paternal
kindness with which I had always treated him; and besides, my poor girl,
after a life of so much unhappiness as yours, I could not bring myself
suddenly to tear away the innocent pleasure you appeared to feel in the
company of your cousin. It was something to see you even temporarily
happy and cheerful, and even now your acquaintance with Prince Henry may
be the means of securing your future tranquillity."

"Dear father, I understand you not."

"Prince Paul, Henry's father, has just sent me this letter. While
considering such an alliance as an honour too great to aspire to, he
solicits your hand for his son, who, he states, is inspired with a
passion for you."

"Dearest father!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, concealing her face with her
hands, "do you forget?"

"I forget nothing,--not even that to-morrow you enter a convent, where,
besides, being for ever lost to me, you will pass the remainder of your
days in tears and austerity. If I must part with you, let it be to give
you to a husband who will love you almost as tenderly as your father."

"Married!--and to him, father! You cannot mean it!"

"Indeed I do; but on one condition: that directly after your marriage
has been celebrated here, without pomp or parade, you shall depart with
your husband for some tranquil retreat in Italy or Switzerland, where
you may live unknown, and merely pass for opulent persons of middle
rank. And my reason for attaching this proviso to my consent is because
I feel assured that, in the bosom of simple and unostentatious
happiness, you would by degrees forget the hateful past, which is now
only more painfully contrasted with the pomp and ceremony by which you
are surrounded."

"Rodolph is right," said Clemence. "With Henry for your companion, and
happy in each other's affection, past sorrows will soon be forgotten."

"And as I could not wholly part with you, Clemence and I would pay you a
visit each year. Then when time shall h