mportance; and so,
you see, we can talk without interruption."

"Especially if we walk over into the garden," said Claude.

Mimi assented, and the two walked into the garden that was on the
west side of the residence, and for some time neither of them said a
word. The trees had just come into leaf; for the season is late in
this climate, but the delay is made good by the rapid growth of
vegetation after it has once started; and now the leaves were
bursting forth in glorious richness and profusion, some more advanced
than others, and exhibiting every stage of development. The lilacs,
above all, were conspicuous for beauty; for they were covered with
blossoms, with the perfume of which the air was loaded.

"I never see you now," said Claude, at length.

"No," said Mimi, sadly.

"It is not as it used to be," said Claude, with a mournful smile,
"when I walked by your side day after day."

Mimi sighed, and said nothing.

"It is different with you," said Claude; "you are the centre of
universal admiration, and everybody pays you attention. The time
never passes heavily with you; but think of me--miserable, obscure,
friendless!"

Mimi turned, and looked at him with such a piteous face that Claude
stopped short. Her eyes were fixed on his with tender melancholy and
reproach. They were filled with tears.

"And do you really believe that?" she said--"that the time never
passes heavily with me? It has been a sad time ever since I came
here. Think how short a time it is since poor, dear papa left me! Do
you think I can have the heart for much enjoyment?"

"Forgive me," said Claude, deeply moved; "I had forgotten; I did not
think what I was saying; I was too selfish."

"That is true," said Mimi. "While you were suffering from loneliness,
you should have thought that I, too, was suffering, even in the
midst of the crowd. But what are they all to me? They are all
strangers. It is my friends that I want to see; and you are away, and
the good Pere Michel never comes!"

"Were you lonely on the road?" asked Claude.

"Never," said Mimi, innocently, "after you came."

As she said this, a flush passed over her lovely face, and she looked
away confused. Claude seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips.
They then walked on in silence for some time. At last Claude spoke
again.

"The ship will not leave for six weeks. If I were alone, I think I
should go back to Boston. But if you go to France, I shall go, too.
Have you ev