e room as she spoke, and in half an hour afterwards Caliste
was sent for by her father, who commanded her to accompany her sister to
the chapel.

"I will obey you, sir!" exclaimed Caliste, proudly, as she raised her
throbbing head, and gazed fixedly on her father. "Yes, I will obey you,
sir, whatever it may cost me!"

Dorsain was alarmed by the wild expression of her eye as she spoke, and
he even ventured to hint his fears to Valmont on her departure, but the
father laughed them to scorn, declaring it was, as Lisette said, mere
jealousy; and if she stayed away from the ceremony it would injure her
character fearfully in all Salency.

"She must learn to command herself," he added, "she is now nineteen; and
if she cannot command herself now, what will become of her?"

Thus ill or well was poor Caliste to be dragged through the ceremony; and
after an early dinner the family of Durocher retired to dress. Victorine,
who was soon ready, went to assist Caliste, whom she found seated by the
side of the bed, her head resting on the pillow. At sight of her sister
she rose, assumed an air of astonishment at her own idleness, and
hastened to arrange her hair. Victorine wished not to encourage this
frame of mind, she therefore offered to dress her sister's hair, and to
fasten her gown; and as she did so she could scarcely restrain her tears
for Caliste's disappointment. She longed to speak some kind word to
comfort or sooth her, but how could she do so, for pity suits not a proud
heart, and Victorine felt it was not a moment to say anything that
_might_ make her worse.

Victorine, however, making some excuse for leaving the room, urged
Margoton to permit Caliste to remain at home; but the mother, not alarmed
herself, saw nothing to fear, and, with her husband, agreed that she
would lose her character as an amiable girl, if she stayed away from
chapel. What, then, could Victorine do? she could but dress her sister
in silence, though in her heart she grieved most bitterly for her.

Victorine, on looking at her sparkling eye and blooming countenance, was
struck by an unnatural beauty that glowed there; and she made some remark
which escaped from her lips ere she was aware that in beauty the Rosiere
had forced upon herself a rival.

In reply, Caliste warmly embraced her sister, and, as if softened by the
action, her natural feelings found vent; and whilst her head still rested
on her sister's shoulder she exclaimed, "Deares