a
poignant emotion that made the tears mount up to his eyes!

If he had ever loved a woman in his life it was this one, little Lise,
Lise de Vance, whom he called "Ashflower," on account of the strange
color of her hair and the pale gray of her eyes. Oh! what a dainty,
pretty, charming creature she was, this frail baronne, the wife of that
gouty, pimply baron, who had abruptly carried her off to the provinces,
shut her up, kept her in seclusion through jealousy, jealousy of the
handsome Lormerin.

Yes, he had loved her, and he believed that he too, had been truly loved.
She familiarly gave him, the name of Jaquelet, and would pronounce that
word in a delicious fashion.

A thousand forgotten memories came back to him, far, off and sweet and
melancholy now. One evening she had called on him on her way home from a
ball, and they went for a stroll in the Bois de Boulogne, she in evening
dress, he in his dressing-jacket. It was springtime; the weather was
beautiful. The fragrance from her bodice embalmed the warm air-the odor
of her bodice, and perhaps, too, the fragrance of her skin. What a divine
night! When they reached the lake, as the moon's rays fell across the
branches into the water, she began to weep. A little surprised, he asked
her why.

"I don't know. The moon and the water have affected me. Every time I see
poetic things I have a tightening at the heart, and I have to cry."

He smiled, affected himself, considering her feminine emotion charming
--the unaffected emotion of a poor little woman, whom every
sensation overwhelms. And he embraced her passionately, stammering:

"My little Lise, you are exquisite."

What a charming love affair, short-lived and dainty, it had been and over
all too quickly, cut short in the midst of its ardor by this old brute of
a baron, who had carried off his wife, and never let any one see her
afterward.

Lormerin had forgotten, in fact, at the end of two or three months. One
woman drives out another so quickly in Paris, when one is a bachelor! No
matter; he had kept a little altar for her in his heart, for he had loved
her alone! He assured himself now that this was so.

He rose, and said aloud: "Certainly, I will go and dine with her this
evening!"

And instinctively he turned toward the mirror to inspect himself from
head to foot. He reflected: "She must look very old, older than I look."
And he felt gratified at the thought of showing himself to her still
handsome, st