d give no time for the disenchantment which would
surely ensue in the following twenty-four hours. Her character consists
in having none at all and in knowing the fact; therefore every day she
tries, with great expenditure of theatrical talent, to support a
totally different _role_; to-day the artless, to-morrow the
sentimental, the day after the heroic, always in every character a
lovely little princess, spoiled by happiness and the world. My poor
brother, who has some of my taste for the genuine, not only in luxury
but in his intercourse with society, of course doesn't like these
continual changes and deceptive appearances, and would even be unhappy
if the charming fair-haired little juggler hadn't made him madly in
love with her. Besides, there's yet another bond between them: in their
leisure hours, between dinner and the theatre, both study theology.
Nothing is more comical than to hear this child, amid the usual prattle
of the drawing room, uttering long perorations about Calvinism and the
guardianship of the Lord. You must broach the subject, it's worth the
trouble. She's given me up, after long efforts at conversion. I made no
secret of my godlessness and afterwards regretted it. How is she to
understand why I repel with loathing and horror the thought that all I
suffer is the work of an omniscient, omnipotent, and yet all merciful
Father? If the elements of my nature, which debar me from happiness,
have been found and united by a great blind dispensation of the course
of the world, and I must go to ruin under this evil combination--it's a
disagreeable, but not an unendurable thought. But a God-father, who,
_de coeur leger_, or out of pedagogical wisdom, makes an unhappy
creature like me wander about so sadly between heaven and earth, that
he may afterwards, to make up for lost time, allow me some
gratification in eternity--no, dear friend, all the aristocratic and
plebeian theology in the world can't make this theory plausible to me.
But come, we'll get into the carriage; I mustn't keep my guests
waiting. The prohibition to inform us, was of course only a pretense.
If we didn't come, they'd be very much vexed, as they would not believe
any well trained servants would heed such a command."

With these words, she walked rapidly toward the carriage, which Jean
had already turned, and without waiting for Edwin's assistance, sprang
lightly in. The latter remained standing beside the door.

"Don't be angry with me,