, received this baptism of fire--a fine expression of
Napoleon's which may be well applied to love--she eagerly promoted the
plan for the Belvedere.

"Mamma," said she one day when two columns were turned, "my father
has taken a singular idea into his head; he is turning columns for a
Belvedere he intends to erect on the heap of stones in the middle of the
garden. Do you approve of it? It seems to me--"

"I approve of everything your father does," said Madame de Watteville
drily, "and it is a wife's duty to submit to her husband even if she
does not approve of his ideas. Why should I object to a thing which is
of no importance in itself, if only it amuses Monsieur de Watteville?"

"Well, because from thence we shall see into Monsieur de Soulas' rooms,
and Monsieur de Soulas will see us when we are there. Perhaps remarks
may be made--"

"Do you presume, Rosalie, to guide your parents, and think you know more
than they do of life and the proprieties?"

"I say no more, mamma. Besides, my father said that there would be
a room in the grotto, where it would be cool, and where we can take
coffee."

"Your father has had an excellent idea," said Madame de Watteville, who
forthwith went to look at the columns.

She gave her entire approbation to the Baron de Watteville's design,
while choosing for the erection of this monument a spot at the bottom
of the garden, which could not be seen from Monsieur de Soulas' windows,
but whence they could perfectly see into Albert Savaron's rooms. A
builder was sent for, who undertook to construct a grotto, of which the
top should be reached by a path three feet wide through the rock-work,
where periwinkles would grow, iris, clematis, ivy, honeysuckle, and
Virginia creeper. The Baroness desired that the inside should be lined
with rustic wood-work, such as was then the fashion for flower-stands,
with a looking-glass against the wall, an ottoman forming a box, and a
table of inlaid bark. Monsieur de Soulas proposed that the floor should
be of asphalt. Rosalie suggested a hanging chandelier of rustic wood.

"The Wattevilles are having something charming done in their garden,"
was rumored in Besancon.

"They are rich, and can afford a thousand crowns for a whim--"

"A thousand crowns!" exclaimed Madame de Chavoncourt.

"Yes, a thousand crowns," cried young Monsieur de Soulas. "A man has
been sent for from Paris to rusticate the interior but it will be very
pretty. Monsieur de Wattevi