h what a sense of
triumph have I seen Margot, forgetting for the instant the sad realities
of her lot, listen breathlessly to me as I told of my ambitious plans!
To her I was already a hero; and oh! the glorious fascination with which
one first feels the thought that another's heart has learned to beat
highly for our successes, and to throb with eagerness for our triumph!
I was but a boy, Margot was a child; and of love, as poets describe it,
there was none between us. Still, in my devotion there was nothing I
would not have dared, to please her,--nothing I would not have braved,
to make her think more highly of me. It was self-love, but self-love
ennobled by generous wishes and high ambitions. I strove to be worthy of
her affection, that so I might be capable of doing more still to deserve
it!

Is it to be wondered at if I dreaded to break this spell, and to awaken
from a trance of such fascination? But there was no alternative; Margot
must go, and I must address myself to the stern business of life, for I
had my bread to earn! How ardently I wished it was to my dear mother's
arms that I should consign her, that her home could be that same humble
home I had just quitted, and that poor Joseph could have been her
teacher and her guide! Alas! I no longer knew in what part of the world
to look for them, and I could only speak of these things as I spoke of
the dream-wrought fancies that my hopes called up!

It was on a bright November morning, clear, sharp, and frosty, that we
left Paris in the diligence for Lyons. M. le Monnier had accompanied us
himself to the bureau, and given the _conducteur_ directions to show us
every attention in his power. Three days' and nights' travelling brought
us to Valence, where poor Margot, completely worn out, was obliged to
repose for some hours, during which time I strolled through the town to
see its churches and other remarkable monuments. It was the hour of
the table-d'hote as I regained the inn, and the hostess advised that we
should dine at the public table, as less expensive than in private.
I remember well with what mingled bashfulness and pride I entered the
room, with Margot holding my hand. The company was a numerous one,
comprising, besides many of the townspeople, several officers of the
garrison, all of whom stared with undisguised astonishment at the aspect
of two travellers of our youth and palpable inexperience, while the
contrast between the deep mourning of her dress an