Monsieur le duc?" she said, holding the sparkling
handle toward him. "There was a card with it, saying, 'Guess if you
can,' and some asterisks. Francoise and Dumay credit Butscha with this
charming surprise; but my dear Butscha is not rich enough to buy such
rubies. And as for papa (to whom I said, as I remember, on Sunday
evening, that I had no whip), he sent to Rouen for this one,"--pointing
to a whip in her father's hand, with a top like a cone of turquoise, a
fashion then in vogue which has since become vulgar.

"I would give ten years of my old age, mademoiselle, to have the right
to offer you that beautiful jewel," said the duke, courteously.

"Ah, here comes the audacious giver!" cried Modeste, as Canalis rode
up. "It is only a poet who knows where to find such choice things.
Monsieur," she said to Melchior, "my father will scold you, and say that
you justify those who accuse you of extravagance."

"Oh!" exclaimed Canalis, with apparent simplicity, "so that is why La
Briere rode at full gallop from Havre to Paris?"

"Does your secretary take such liberties?" said Modeste, turning pale,
and throwing the whip to Francoise with an impetuosity that expressed
scorn. "Give me your whip, papa."

"Poor Ernest, who lies there on his bed half-dead with fatigue!" said
Canalis, overtaking the girl, who had already started at a gallop. "You
are pitiless, mademoiselle. 'I have' (the poor fellow said to me) 'only
this one chance to remain in her memory.'"

"And should you think well of a woman who could take presents from half
the parish?" said Modeste.

She was surprised to receive no answer to this inquiry, and attributed
the poet's inattention to the noise of the horse's feet.

"How you delight in tormenting those who love you," said the duke. "Your
nobility of soul and your pride are so inconsistent with your faults
that I begin to suspect you calumniate yourself, and do those naughty
things on purpose."

"Ah! have you only just found that out, Monsieur le duc?" she exclaimed,
laughing. "You have the sagacity of a husband."

They rode half a mile in silence. Modeste was a good deal astonished not
to receive the fire of the poet's eyes. The evening before, as she was
pointing out to him an admirable effect of setting sunlight across the
water, she had said, remarking his inattention, "Well, don't you see
it?"--to which he replied, "I can see only your hand"; but now his
admiration for the beauties of nature seeme