ve is a mere detail. The parents, or
those who stand in the place of parents, are the absolute masters, and
therefore the high contracting powers. Sons as well as daughters are
subject to this will until after marriage. It is a custom strong as
statute law. If inclination coincide with parental desire, well and
good; if not, a social system which rears young orphan girls to feed
the insatiate lust of Paris winks at the secret lover and the
mistress.

With the reasonable certainty of the approval of both father and
brother and with a heart surcharged with love for the sweet girl whom
he felt was not indifferent to him, Jean had reason to feel happy and
confident. As they bent over the pictures they formed a charming
picture themselves.

"Really, monsieur!"

Mlle. Remy saw herself reproduced with such faithfulness that she
started.

"Well?"

Jean looked up in her face with all his passion concentrated in his
eyes.

She was bending over the head of a young girl with a profusion of fair
hair down upon her shoulders, and she forgot. Another showed the same
face in a pen-and-ink profile, with the same glorious hair.

"They are amateurish----"

"Au contraire," she interrupted, "they are quite--but Henri did not
tell me, monsieur, that you were an artist."

"And he was right, cousin."

She had turned her face away from the light, so he could not see her
blushes. For these pictures told a story of love more vividly and more
eloquently than words. She was trying to piece out that which remained
untold.

"The pictures are well done, Cousin Jean,--and your model----"

"Fouchette."

"Oh, yes; I see now! She is a model, truly!"

Mlle. Remy seemed to derive a good deal of satisfaction from this
conclusion.

[Illustration: IT WAS A CRITICAL MOMENT]

"But," she added, quickly, "do you think she looks so much like me?"

"A mere suggestion," he said.

"It is curious,--very curious, mon--Cousin Jean; but do you know----"

Their heads were very close together. Unconsciously their lips met.

Mlle. Fouchette had been engaged in the work of washing dishes. It was
an excuse to kill time and something to occupy her attention. As she
carefully arranged everything in its place she realized that it was
for the last occasion. She knew her work was done. So she made
everything particularly bright and clean. The dessert dishes and
glasses were still on the table, and she had stepped out cautiously
and timidly to fetch