ne, Robert never, during those
delightful months (the only happy period in the lives of the three
young people) said one virile word which might have brought matters to
a crisis between Laurence and her cousins. He was struck with the
sincerity of the brothers; he saw how the one could be glad at the
happiness of the other and yet suffer anguish in the depths of his
heart, and he did perceive how a woman might shrink from showing
tenderness to one which would grieve the other. This perception on
Robert's part was a just one; it explains a situation which, in times
of faith, when the sovereign pontiff had power to intervene and cut
the Gordian knot of such phenomena (allied to the deepest and most
impenetrable mysteries), would have found its solution. The Revolution
had deepened the Catholic faith in these young hearts, and religion now
rendered this crisis in their lives the more severe, because nobility of
character is ever heightened by the grandeur of circumstances. A sense
of this truth kept Monsieur and Madame d'Hauteserre and the abbe from
the slightest fear of any unworthy result on the part of the brothers or
of Laurence.

This private drama, secretly developing within the limits of the family
life where each member watched it silently, ran its course so rapidly
and withal so slowly, it carried with it so many unhoped-for pleasures,
trifling jars, frustrated fancies, hopes reversed, anxious waitings,
delayed explanations and mute avowals that the dwellers at Cinq-Cygne
paid no attention to the public drama of the Emperor's coronation. At
times these passions made a truce and sought distraction in the violent
enjoyment of hunting, when weariness of body took from the soul all
occasions to wander in the dangerous meadows of reverie. Neither
Laurence nor her cousins had a thought now for public affairs; each day
brought its palpitating and absorbing interests for their hearts.

"Really," said Mademoiselle Goujet one evening, "I don't know which of
all the lovers loves the most."

Adrien, who happened to be alone in the salon with the four
card-players, raised his eyes and turned pale. For the last few days
his only hold on life had been the pleasure of seeing Laurence and of
listening to her.

"I think," said the abbe, "that the countess, being a woman, loves with
the greater abandonment to love."

Laurence, the twins, and Robert entered the room soon after. The
newspapers had just arrived. England, seeing t