r bridal _parure_, Madeleine."

Madeleine tried to laugh.

"Then I should carry my whole fortune on my back; all that remains of my
ancient house I should bear, snail-fashion, upon my head and shoulders.
No, little dreamer, of two facts you may rest assured: one is that I
shall never wear these jewels; the other that I never shall be a bride.
Come, let me undress you; your blue eyes are so sleepy they are growing
gray as the heavens at twilight."

The Chateau de Tremazan was seven miles from his father's mansion, but
Maurice, after his abrupt exit from the conservatory, walked leisurely
home. The next morning, before the count had risen, his son entered the
room, in travelling attire, to make the communication that he had
ordered the carriage to drive him to Rennes, in time to meet the early
train that started for Paris. He trusted his father would offer no
objection, and would make the traveller's apologies to the ladies of the
household, for avoiding the pain of leave-taking. Count Tristan approved
of the journey; and, a few moments later, Maurice leaped into the coach,
glancing eagerly up at a window, surrounded by a framework of jasmine
vines; but no face looked forth; no hand waved a farewell and filled the
vernal frame with a living picture.

The intelligence of his sudden departure was received differently by the
three ladies. The countess was inclined to be displeased that he had
foregone the ceremony of an adieu. Any shortcoming in the payment of the
full amount of deference, which she considered her due, was a great
offence. Of late, Maurice had several times wounded her upon this tender
point, and her sensitiveness was thereby increased.

Bertha was loud in her lamentations over the disappearance of her
cousin. Her deep chagrin revived the hopes of Count Tristan and his
mother, and awakened the welcome suggestion, that he, in reality, held a
tenderer place in her heart than she had ever admitted to herself.

Madeleine's face instinctively brightened when she heard that Maurice
was gone; his departure smoothed away a difficulty from the path she was
about to tread. Count Tristan watched her closely, and was perplexed by
the gleam of genuine satisfaction that illumined her countenance. For
the first time he was half deceived into the belief that the passion of
Maurice was unrequited. He had been puzzled in what manner to interpret
Madeleine's determined rejection of her cousin. He was unable to
comprehend