mate actress--a perfect type of the village coquette,
queening it over her playmates, tricked out in what old finery she could
lay hands on, adorning herself with bracelets and tiaras made from the
silver paper wrappings of the chocolate. She had not changed a bit when,
later, at the age of twenty, she married Maginot, the inspector of woods
and forests. Mezieres, a dark, gloomy town, surrounded by ramparts, was
not to her taste, and she continued to live at Charleville, where the
gay, generous life, enlivened by many festivities, suited her better.
Her father was dead, and with a husband whom, by reason of his inferior
social position, her friends and acquaintances treated with scant
courtesy, she was absolutely mistress of her own actions. She did not
escape the censure of the stern moralists who inhabit our provincial
cities, and in those days was credited with many lovers; but of the gay
throng of officers who, thanks to her father's old connection and her
kinship to Colonel de Vineuil, disported themselves in her drawing-room,
Captain Beaudoin was the only one who had really produced an impression.
She was light and frivolous--nothing more--adoring pleasure and
living entirely in the present, without the least trace of perverse
inclination; and if she accepted the captain's attentions, it is pretty
certain that she did it out of good-nature and love of admiration.

"You did very wrong to see him again," Henriette finally said, in her
matter-of-fact way.

"Oh! my dear, since I could not possibly do otherwise, and it was only
for just that once. You know very well I would die rather than deceive
my new husband."

She spoke with much feeling, and seemed distressed to see her friend
shake her head disapprovingly. They dropped the subject, and
clasped each other in an affectionate embrace, notwithstanding their
diametrically different natures. Each could hear the beating of the
other's heart, and they might have understood the tongues those organs
spoke--one, the slave of pleasure, wasting and squandering all that
was best in herself; the other, with the mute heroism of a lofty soul,
devoting herself to a single ennobling affection.

"But hark! how the cannon are roaring," Gilberte presently exclaimed. "I
must make haste and dress."

The reports sounded more distinctly in the silent room now that their
conversation had ceased. Leaving her bed, the young woman accepted the
assistance of her friend, not caring to sum