l that we possess, to the creditors or the heirs, as
if we ourselves were not the greatest losers by that charlatan of the
Rue Quincampoix! Perhaps you never heard of that notorious business, nor
knew of a time when all Paris went mad together, and bartered everything
of price and value for the worthless scrip of a mountebank's invention.
How sorry I am, dearest Fifine, to tease you with all this, but I cannot
help it. They have found--that is, the lawyers--that there are two
parties in existence whose claims extend to our poor old chateau by some
private arrangement contracted between my grandfather and the then Duc
d'Orleans. One of these is Louis's own son, now living at Venice; the
other--you'll scarcely believe me--yourself! Yes, my dear cousin, you
possess a part right over Chasse Loups. There was a day when you might
have had the whole I--not my fault that it was not so!'"

"Is this a lover's letter, or a lawyer's, Josephine?" said my father,
dryly.

"Ah, you cannot understand Emile," said she, artlessly; "he is so unlike
the rest of the world, poor fellow! But I 'll read on.

"'It all comes to this, Fifine: you must give me a release, so they
call it, and Louis, if I can find him out, must do something of the same
kind; for I am going to be married'--[she paused for a few seconds, and
then read on] 'to be married to Mademoiselle de Nipernois, sister of
Charles de Nipernois. When you went, remember, as a page to the Queen,
you never saw ma belle Hortense, for she was educated at Bruges. Alas,
oui! so is my episode to end also! Meanwhile I 'm coming to see you, to
obtain your signature to these tiresome papers, and to be, for a while
at least, out of the way, since I have been unlucky enough to wound
Auguste Vallaume seriously, I 'm afraid,--all his own fault, however, as
I will tell you at another time. Now, can you receive me,--I mean is it
convenient? Will it be in any way unpleasant? Does le bon mari like or
dislike us French? Will he be jealous of our cousinage?'"

"On the score of frankness, Josephine, you may tell him I have nothing
to complain of," broke in my father, dryly.

"Is it not so?" rejoined my mother. "Emile is candor itself." She read:
"'At all hazards, I shall try, Fifine. If he does not like me, he must
banish me. The difficulty will be to know where; for I have debts on all
sides, and nothing but marriage will set me right. Droll enough, that
one kind of slavery is to be the refuge for an