he replied, smiling. "A month
hence I shall say as I do to-day. 'It is either he or no one.' And you
shall choose."

"Do not repeat that formula, I beg. Fixed resolves are the prison-house
of the will. Promise me to reflect; reflection is an excellent thing.
One thing more--grant me in advance what I am going to ask you."

"It is granted."

"You have a godmother--"

"Ah! now we are coming to the point," she added.

"You cannot deny that Mme. De Lorcy is a woman of the world, a woman
of good sense, a woman of experience, who is deeply interested in your
welfare--"

"And who has decided from time immemorial, that I can only be happy on
condition that I marry her nephew, M. Camille Langis."

"Well, I admit that she is partial. That is no reason why we should not
send her our Pole. She will inspect him, she will tell us her opinion;
it will be a new element in the argument."

"Ah! I know her opinion without asking it. This woman of experience
and good sense is incapable of recognising merit in a man who is
sufficiently impertinent to make Mlle. Moriaz love him, without having
at least fifty thousand livres a year to offer her."

"What does that matter? We will let her speak--we need not question her,
an oracle; but she knows false jewellery. If she discover--"

"I would require proofs," she interrupted, quickly.

"And if she furnish them?"

She was silent an instant, then she said: "Let it be so; do as you
please."

With these words they ended the conversation; then arose, and retook
the road to Saint Moritz. M. Moriaz scarcely had reached there, when
he entered a carriage to drive to Cellarina, provided with a portfolio
given him by Antoinette. He found M. Larinski busy strapping his trunks,
and waiting for the mail-coach that made the journey between Samaden and
Chur by the Col du Julier.

M. Moriaz expressed his regret at having missed his visit, and asked if
he would consent to charge himself with a commission for his daughter,
who desired to send to her godmother, Mme. De Lorcy, a sketch of Saint
Moritz.

"Cheerfully," coldly replied Count Abel, and he promised, so soon as he
reached Paris, to send the portfolio to Maisons Lafitte.

"Do better than that," rejoined M. Moriaz, "and carry your good-nature
so far as to take it yourself to its address. Mme. de Lorcy is an
amiable woman, who will be charmed to make your acquaintance, and hear
from you of us."

The count bowed with a submissive air. The