ould enable me to
put it in practice."

"He did not like leaving me in the Rue Fossette; he feared I should
miss him there too much--I should feel desolate--I should grow sad--?"

This was certain; but I promised to do my best to endure.

"Still," said he, speaking low, "there is another objection to your
present residence. I should wish to write to you sometimes: it would
not be well to have any uncertainty about the safe transmission of
letters; and in the Rue Fossette--in short, our Catholic discipline in
certain matters--though justifiable and expedient--might possibly,
under peculiar circumstances, become liable to misapplication--perhaps
abuse."

"But if you write," said I, "I _must_ have your letters; and I _will_
have them: ten directors, twenty directresses, shall not keep them from
me. I am a Protestant: I will not bear that kind of discipline:
Monsieur, I _will not_."

"Doucement--doucement," rejoined he; "we will contrive a plan; we have
our resources: soyez tranquille."

So speaking, he paused.

We were now returning from the long walk. We had reached the middle of
a clean Faubourg, where the houses were small, but looked pleasant. It
was before the white door-step of a very neat abode that M. Paul had
halted.

"I call here," said he.

He did not knock, but taking from his pocket a key, he opened and
entered at once. Ushering me in, he shut the door behind us. No servant
appeared. The vestibule was small, like the house, but freshly and
tastefully painted; its vista closed in a French window with vines
trained about the panes, tendrils, and green leaves kissing the glass.
Silence reigned in this dwelling.

Opening an inner door, M. Paul disclosed a parlour, or salon--very
tiny, but I thought, very pretty. Its delicate walls were tinged like a
blush; its floor was waxed; a square of brilliant carpet covered its
centre; its small round table shone like the mirror over its hearth;
there was a little couch, a little chiffonniere, the half-open,
crimson-silk door of which, showed porcelain on the shelves; there was
a French clock, a lamp; there were ornaments in biscuit china; the
recess of the single ample window was filled with a green stand,
bearing three green flower-pots, each filled with a fine plant glowing
in bloom; in one corner appeared a gueridon with a marble top, and upon
it a work-box, and a glass filled with violets in water. The lattice of
this room was open; the outer air breathing