y, at the risk of injuring myself," said the
prince.

"How could you make up your mind to exhibit yourself in public with--?"

"With that young girl?" interrupted Djalma.

"Yes, cousin," replied Mdlle. de Cardoville, and she waited for Djalma's
answer with anxious curiosity.

"A stranger to the customs of this country," said Djalma, without
any embarrassment, for he spoke the truth, "with a mind weakened
with despair, and misled by the fatal counsels of a man devoted to my
enemies, I believed, even as I was told, that, by displaying before
you the semblance of another love, I should excite your jealousy, and
thus--"

"Enough, cousin; I understand it all," said Adrienne hastily,
interrupting Djalma in her turn, that she might spare him a painful
confession. "I too must have been blinded by despair, not to have
seen through this wicked plot, especially after your rash and intrepid
action. To risk death for the sake of my bouquet!" added Adrienne,
shuddering at the mere remembrance. "But one last question," she
resumed, "though I am already sure of your answer. Did you receive a
letter that I wrote to you, on the morning of the day in which I saw you
at the theatre?"

Djalma made no reply. A dark cloud passed over his fine countenance,
and, for a second, his features assumed so menacing an expression, that
Adrienne was terrified at the effect produced by her words. But this
violent agitation soon passed away, and Djalma's brow became once more
calm and serene.

"I have been more merciful that I thought," said the prince to Adrienne,
who looked at him with astonishment. "I wished to come hither worthy of
you, my cousin. I pardoned the man who, to serve my enemies, had given
me all those fatal counsels. The same person, I am sure, must have
intercepted your letter. Just now, at the memory of the evils he thus
caused me, I, for a moment, regretted my clemency. But then, again, I
thought of your letter of yesterday--and my anger is all gone."

"Then the sad time of fear and suspicion is over--suspicion, that made
me doubt of your sentiments, and you of mine. Oh, yes! far removed from
us be that fatal past!" cried Adrienne de Cardoville, with deep joy..

Then, as if she had relieved her heart from the last thought of sadness,
she continued: "The future is all your own--the radiant future, without
cloud or obstacle, pure in the immensity of its horizon, and extending
beyond the reach of sight!"

It is impossible to