ies, and his strength. His
tastes were as thoroughly elevated as could be those of a being
who strove to repress his soul. Refined intrigues, luxury in music,
paintings, books, and horses--these constituted all the joy of his soul,
of his sense, and of his pride. He hovered over the flowers of Parisian
elegance; as a bee in the bosom of a rose, he drank in its essence and
revelled in its beauty.

It is easy to understand that M. de Camors, relishing this prosperity,
attached himself more and more to the moral and religious creed that
assured it to him; that he became each day more and more confirmed in
the belief that the testament of his father and his own reflection had
revealed to him the true evangel of men superior to their species. He
was less and less tempted to violate the rules of the game of life; but
among all the useless cards, to hold which might disturb his system, the
first he discarded was the thought of marriage. He pitied himself
too tenderly at the idea of losing the liberty of which he made such
agreeable use; at the idea of taking on himself gratuitously the
restraints, the tedium, the ridicule, and even the danger of a
household. He shuddered at the bare thought of a community of goods and
interest; and of possible paternity.

With such views he was therefore but little disposed to encourage
the natural hopes in which Madame de Tecle had entombed her love. He
determined so to conduct himself toward her as to leave no ground for
the growth of her illusion. He ceased to visit Reuilly, remaining there
but two or three weeks in each year, as such time as the session of the
Council-General summoned him to the province.

It is true that during these rare visits Camors piqued himself on
rendering Madame de Tecle and M. des Rameures all the duties of
respectful gratitude. Yet avoiding all allusion to the past, guarding
himself scrupulously from confidential converse, and observing a frigid
politeness to Mademoiselle Marie, there remained doubt in his mind that,
the fickleness of the fair sex aiding him, the young mother of the girl
would renounce her chimerical project. His error was great: and it may
be here remarked that a hard and scornful scepticism may in this world
engender as many false judgments and erroneous calculations as candor or
even inexperience can. He believed too much in what had been written of
female fickleness; in deceived lovers, who truly deserved to be such;
and in what disappoin