rs; I went so far as to tell Brigitte that she ought to adopt
her as a model, and that she was just the kind of woman to please me.

Poor Madame Daniel discovered signs of melancholy in Brigitte's eyes.
She was a strange creature, as good and sincere--when you could
get finery out of her head--as she was stupid when absorbed in such
frivolous affairs. On occasion she could be both good and stupid.
One fine day, when they were walking together, she threw herself into
Brigitte's arms, and told her that she had noticed I was beginning to
pay court to her, and that I had made certain proposals to her, the
meaning of which was not doubtful; but she knew that I was another's
lover, and as for her, whatever might happen, she would die rather than
destroy the happiness of a friend. Brigitte thanked her, and Madame
Daniel, having set her conscience at ease, considered it no sin to
render me desolate by languishing glances.

In the evening, when she had gone, Brigitte, in a severe tone, told
me what had happened; she begged me to spare her such affronts in the
future.

"Not that I attach any importance to such pleasantries," she said, "but
if you have any love for me, it seems to me it is useless to inform a
third party that there are times when you have not."

"Is it possible," I replied with a smile, "that it is important? You see
very well that I was only joking, and that I did it only to pass away
the time."

"Ah! my friend, my friend," said Brigitte, "it is a pity that you must
seek pastimes."

A few days later I proposed that we go to the prefecture to see Madame
Daniel dance; she unwillingly consented. While she was arranging her
toilette, I sat near the window and reproached her for losing her former
cheerfulness.

"What is the matter with you?" I asked. (I knew as well as she.) "Why
that morose air that never leaves you? In truth, you make our life quite
sad. I have known you when you were more joyous, more free and more
open; I am not flattered by the thought that I am responsible for the
change. But you have a cloistral disposition; you were born to live in a
convent."

It was Sunday; as we were driving down the road Brigitte ordered the
carriage to stop in order to say good-evening to some friends, fresh and
vigorous country girls, who were going to dance at Tilleuls. When they
had gone on, Brigitte followed them with, longing eyes; her little
rustic dance was very dear to her; she dried her eyes with her
h