e sworn that Modeste shall be happy, and we would
sell our honor for her. Adieu, monsieur. If you truly love Mademoiselle
de La Bastie, forget this conversation and shake hands with me, for I
think you've got a heart. I longed to see the Chalet, and I got here
just as SHE was putting out her light. I saw the dogs rush at you, and
I overheard your words, and that is why I take the liberty of saying we
serve in the same regiment--that of loyal devotion."

"Monsieur," said La Briere, wringing the hunchback's hand, "would you
have the friendliness to tell me if Mademoiselle Modeste ever loved any
one WITH LOVE before she wrote to Canalis?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Butscha in an altered voice; "that thought is an insult.
And even now, who knows if she really loves? does she know herself?
She is enamored of genius, of the soul and intellect of that seller of
verses, that literary quack; but she will study him, we shall all study
him; and I know how to make the man's real character peep out from under
that turtle-shell of fine manners,--we'll soon see the petty little head
of his ambition and his vanity!" cried Butscha, rubbing his hands. "So,
unless mademoiselle is desperately taken with him--"

"Oh! she was seized with admiration when she saw him, as if he were
something marvellous," exclaimed La Briere, letting the secret of his
jealousy escape him.

"If he is a loyal, honest fellow, and loves her; if he is worthy of
her; if he renounces his duchess," said Butscha,--"then I'll manage the
duchess! Here, my dear sir, take this road, and you will get home in ten
minutes."

But as they parted, Butscha turned back and hailed poor Ernest, who,
as a true lover, would gladly have stayed there all night talking of
Modeste.

"Monsieur," said Butscha, "I have not yet had the honor of seeing our
great poet. I am very curious to observe that magnificent phenomenon
in the exercise of his functions. Do me the favor to bring him to the
Chalet to-morrow evening, and stay as long as possible; for it takes
more than an hour for a man to show himself for what he is. I shall be
the first to see if he loves, if he can love, or if he ever will love
Mademoiselle Modeste."

"You are very young to--"

"--to be a professor," said Butscha, cutting short La Briere. "Ha,
monsieur, deformed folks are born a hundred years old. And besides, a
sick man who has long been sick, knows more than his doctor; he knows
the disease, and that is more than can be s