ity of mind which struck me so forcibly, and
which seems to embarrass you so much at present. What would you have,
sir?--great minds like yours find it difficult to maintain their
incognito. Yet, as by different ways--oh! very different," added the
young lady, maliciously, "we are tending to the same end (still keeping
in view our conversation at Dr. Baleinier's), I wish, for the sake of
our future communion, as you call it, to give you a piece of advice, and
speak frankly to you."

Rodin had listened to Mdlle. de Cardoville with apparent impassibility,
holding his hat under his arm, and twirling his thumbs, whilst his hands
were crossed upon his waistcoat. The only external mark of the intense
agitation into which he was thrown by the calm words of Adrienne, was
that the livid eyelids of the Jesuit, which had been hypocritically
closed, became gradually red, as the blood flowed into them.
Nevertheless, he answered Mdlle. de Cardoville in a firm voice, and with
a low bow: "Good advice and frankness are always excellent things."

"You see, sir," resumed Adrienne, with some excitement, "happy love
bestows such penetration, such energy, such courage, as enables one to
laugh at perils, to detect stratagems, and to defy hatred. Believe me,
the divine light which surrounds two loving hearts will be sufficient to
disperse all darkness, and reveal every snare. You see, in India--excuse
my weakness, but I like to talk of India," added the young girl, with
a smile of indescribable grace and meaning--"in India, when travellers
sleep at night, they kindle great fires round their ajoupa (excuse this
touch of local coloring), and far as extends the luminous circle, it
puts to flight by its mere brilliancy, all the impure and venomous
reptiles that shun the day and live only in darkness."

"The meaning of this comparison has quite escaped me," said Rodin,
continuing to twirl his thumbs, and half raising his eyelids, which were
getting redder and redder.

"I will speak more plainly," said Adrienne, with a smile. "Suppose,
sir, that the last is a service which you have rendered me and the
prince--for you only proceed by way of services--that, I acknowledge, is
novel and ingenious."

"Bravo, my dear child!" said the count, joyfully. "The execution will be
complete."

"Oh! this is meant for an execution?" said Rodin, still impassible.

"No, sir," answered Adrienne, with a smile; "it is a simple conversation
between a poor young gi