vived. If you but knew this, Margot, you would soon
see how this bright moment of our meeting repays all the sorrows of a
life long."

"I am in the third act of the drama," said the elder lady, smiling.
"Pray let me into the secret of the piece. Where, when, and how were you
first acquainted?"

Margot looked at me to speak; but I returned her glance so entreatingly
that, taking her friend's hand between her own, she seated her at her
side and began.

While she narrated the story of our first meeting, I had full time to
look at her, and see the changes a few years had made. Beautiful as
she had been in childhood, far more lovely was she now in the grace of
developed beauty. Her art, too, had cultivated expression to its very
highest point, yet without exaggerating a trait of her features; the
tones of her voice had in them a melody I had never heard before; and I
hung on her very utterance as though it were music!

I dare not trust myself to recall more of that scene: already are
emotions struggling within me, the conflict of which this poor shattered
heart is not equal to. The great trials of life are often easier burdens
to memory than some flitting moment of passionate existence, some one
brief hour of mingled hope and fear.

Margot's friend--it was Mademoiselle Mars herself--felt the liveliest
interest in the story of our first meeting, my boyish duel and--why
should I not say it?--my boyish love. She took pleasure in hearing
of every indication of that genius in infancy which she had seen so
splendidly displayed in womanhood, and asked me for traits of Margot's
childhood with the greatest eagerness.

Margot--the first excitement over--seemed sad and dispirited; she even
showed impatience once or twice as Mademoiselle Mars insisted on hearing
some little incident of childhood, and then abruptly said,--

"And you, Monsieur, how has the world treated you since we met?"

"Not so flatteringly; I am not spoiled by Fortune."

"Nor am I," said she, hastily taking up my words.

"No, dearest, that you are not," cried the other. "You are as first I
knew you, generous, warm-hearted, and kind."

"I mean," said Margot, "that these successes have not made me vain nor
proud; that I know how to esteem them at their true price, and
feel, moreover, how in my heart there lives a spirit above all this
loud-tongued flattery."

Mademoiselle Mars looked at me while she spoke, and I thought that her
eyes conveyed the stranges