forth their congratulations.

Felicie Durand had not expected to be elected; she had, therefore,
embraced her successful rival apparently unmoved, but not so her
companion. Proudly did Caliste stand aloof; one tear only she had shed,
and that had dried ere it fell from her cheek, but casting only one look
of indignant anger on those paying court to Lisette, she hastily left the
church, wholly unregarded by her parents, and by all save Mimi, who alone
amidst that crowd had thought of her.

With a hurried step and throbbing heart did Caliste hasten to her home,
forgetful that Victorine was there, and entering the cottage, hastened to
her chamber, throwing herself upon her knees, and giving way to the
passions that raged fearfully within her.

"And is it come to this!" she exclaimed. "Must I, the elder born, give
place to one, because that her cheek is fairer, and that the brightness
of her eye surpasses mine? Miserable Caliste! Unhappy, disgraced
creature! How can I bear, rejected as I am, for a mere child to appear
in Salency? How can my proud spirit bend, to treat with common courtesy
those who have passed me over for one so much more girlish than I am?"

Writhing in agony, she thus gave vent to her passion. But suddenly she
was roused by soothing words whispered in her ear, and looking up, she
beheld Victorine, whose soft eyes were full of tears for her.

"My sister," said Victorine, "my dearest sister, give not way thus
fearfully to regret. Mimi has sent me to you, Caliste. Mimi, who loves
you, with tears bade me follow you hither."

Victorine, as she spoke, embraced her sister, and earnestly implored her
to be calm.

"That can I never be," she answered, "whilst I am rejected, and Lisette
triumphs."

"But, remember that she is our sister," whispered Victorine; "that her
election is happiness to our parents. Dearest Caliste, wherefore be so
dispirited? we all love you dearly; let us not then grieve our parents by
not participating in their present cause of satisfaction."

"Victorine," replied her sister, "what cause have I to sooth my parents?
Have they forgotten that I, too, am their child, as well as Lisette? Yes,
they have forgotten it, Victorine; and in the moment when I most need
their comfort, they have passed over their unhappy child, to triumph with
her who is triumphant. No, I will not think of them," she added, "for
they have already forgotten me. But, what am I saying--they no more
re