ps it.

Modeste, under the inspiration of her present situation, was putting to
music certain stanzas which we are compelled to quote here--albeit
they are printed in the second volume of the edition Dauriat had
mentioned--because, in order to adapt them to her music, which had the
inexpressible charm of sentiment so admired in great singers, Modeste
had taken liberties with the lines in a manner that may astonish the
admirers of a poet so famous for the correctness, sometimes too precise,
of his measures.

THE MAIDEN'S SONG

Hear, arise! the lark is shaking
Sunlit wings that heavenward rise;
Sleep no more; the violet, waking,
Wafts her incense to the skies.

Flowers revived, their eyes unclosing,
See themselves in drops of dew
In each calyx-cup reposing,
Pearls of a day their mirror true.

Breeze divine, the god of roses,
Passed by night to bless their bloom;
See! for him each bud uncloses,
Glows, and yields its rich perfume.

Then arise! the lark is shaking
Sunlit wings that heavenward rise;
Nought is sleeping--Heart, awaking,
Lift thine incense to the skies.

"It is very pretty," said Madame Dumay. "Modeste is a musician, and
that's the whole of it."

"The devil is in her!" cried the cashier, into whose heart the suspicion
of the mother forced its way and made him shiver.

"She loves," persisted Madame Mignon.

By succeeding, through the undeniable testimony of the song, in making
the cashier a sharer in her belief as to the state of Modeste's heart,
Madame Mignon destroyed the happiness the return and the prosperity of
his master had brought him. The poor Breton went down the hill to Havre
and to his desk in Gobenheim's counting-room with a heavy heart; then,
before returning to dinner, he went to see Latournelle, to tell his
fears, and beg once more for the notary's advice and assistance.

"Yes, my dear friend," said Dumay, when they parted on the steps of the
notary's door, "I now agree with madame; she loves,--yes, I am sure of
it; and the devil knows the rest. I am dishonored."

"Don't make yourself unhappy, Dumay," answered the little notary. "Among
us all we can surely get the better of the little puss; sooner or later,
every girl in love betrays herself,--you may be sure of that. But we
will talk about it this evening."

Thus it happened that all those devoted to the Mignon family were fully
as disquieted and uncertain as they were before