em the
torrent of adulation that swept through her heart? She was conscious,
too, of her beauty; and, for the first time, felt that its influence was
experienced by others. The reputation of the lovely novice spread far
and near, and strangers came to Linange to see and speak with her. The
little weekly receptions at the "Mairie" were crowded with new faces.
Officers from the garrison at Valence, and travellers, were continually
arriving; and "La Belle Margot" was a toast pledged by hundreds who
never saw her.

From Ursule alone came words of warning. The world of her acquaintance
met her with nothing but flattery, and flattery, too, more palpably
expressed than is usual, since used to one upon whom, in a few days,
life was to close forever.

Margot was told that, to waste her charms on the dull world of a little
village was an insult to her own beauty, and that Valence, which so
long had heard of should certainly see her. She believed this, and
accordingly insisted on going there. At Valence her triumphs were
greater than ever; but there she heard that Paris alone could rightly
appreciate loveliness such as hers. They told her, too, that it was
an age in which beauty was sovereign; and the nation, wearied of a
monarchy, had accepted military glory and female loveliness as the true
elements of command. The will of the novice is a law at this period, and
the old Marquis, who had now regained some remnant of his fortune, set
out for Paris.

The most hackneyed in the world's ways knows well with what a sense
of enjoyment he finds himself in Paris, the most brilliant of all the
cities of the earth. The gorgeous panorama of life that passes there
before his eyes has nowhere its equal. What, then, must it have appeared
to the fresh enthusiasm of that young girl, eager for pleasure, for
excitement and admiration!

At first her whole soul was bent upon the gorgeous spectacle before
her,--the splendor of a scene such as she in imagination had never
realized. The palaces, the military pomp, the equipages, the dress, were
far above all she had conceived of magnificence and display; but the
theatres imparted a delight to her beyond all the rest. The ideal world
that she saw there typified a world of passionate feeling, of love,
joy, ambition, and triumph! What a glorious contrast to the grave-like
stillness of the convent,--to the living death of a poor nun's
existence! It is true, she had been taught to regard these things as