cit, quiet kind of way, engaged to Edouard le Blanc--that
is to say, she intended marrying him as soon as their mutual savings
should justify such a step; and provided, also, that no more eligible
offer wooed her acceptance in the meantime. M. de Veron himself was
frequently in the habit of calling, on his way to or from Mon Sejour,
for a pate and a little lively badinage with the comely widow; and so
frequently, at one time, that Edouard le Blanc was half-inclined--to
Madame Carson's infinite amusement--to be jealous of the rich, though
elderly merchant's formal and elaborate courtesies. It was on leaving
her shop that he had slipped and sprained his ankle. M. de Veron
fainted with the extreme pain, was carried in that state into the
little parlour behind the shop, and had not yet recovered
consciousness when the apothecary, whom Madame Carson had despatched
her little waiting-maid-of-all-work in quest of, entered to tender his
assistance. This is all, I think, that needs be said, in a preliminary
way, of Madame Carson.

Of course, the tidings brought by Eugene and Edouard very painfully
affected Mademoiselle le Blanc; but being a very sensible, as well as
remarkably handsome young person, she soon rallied, and insisted,
quite as warmly as her mother did, that the sacrifice necessary to
relieve Edouard from the peril which environed him--painful,
heartbreaking as that sacrifice might be--must be submitted to without
reserve or delay. In other words, that M. de Veron, junior, must
consent to espouse Mademoiselle de Merode, and forthwith inform his
father that he was ready to sign the nuptial-contract that moment if
necessary. Poor Eugene, who was really over head and ears in love, and
more so just then than ever, piteously lamented his own cruel fate,
and passionately denounced the tiger-heartedness of his barbarian
father; but as tears and reproaches could avail nothing in such a
strait, he finally submitted to the general award, and agreed to
announce his submission to M. de Veron at the church of Notre Dame,
not a moment later, both ladies insisted, than five minutes past
seven.

Madame Carson was not at home all this while. She had gone to church,
and after devotions, called on her way back on one or two friends for
a little gossip, so that it wanted only about a quarter to seven when
she reappeared. Of course the lamentable story had to be told over
again, with all its dismal accompaniments of tears, sighs, and