" persisted Maurice.

"There is none that I can discover. Both are equally near of kin,--both
my cousins,--both second cousins, or third cousins, some people would
call them; the one is kin through my grandmother, the other through my
grandfather. What _can_ be the difference?"

"_My will_ makes the difference!" answered the countess, in a severe
tone. "Is not _that_ sufficient?"

"It ought to be so, Maurice," Madeleine interposed, without appearing to
be either wounded or surprised at her aunt's manner. "If not, I must add
_my will_ to my aunt's." Then, as though in haste to change the subject,
she said, extending her hand, "I am very, _very_ glad to see you,
Maurice."

"You have not changed as much as my pretty Bertha here," remarked
Maurice. "She has gained a great deal in the last year. But you,
Madeleine, look a little paler than ever, and a little thinner than you
were. I fear it is because you still keep that candle burning which last
year I used to notice at your window when I returned from balls long
after midnight. You will destroy your health."

"There is no danger of _that_," answered Madeleine, gayly. "I am in most
unpoetically robust health. I am never ailing for an hour."

"Never ailing and never weary," joined in Bertha. "That is, she never
complains, and never admits she is tired. She would make us believe that
her constitution is a compound of iron and India-rubber."

Maurice took a small jewel-case from his pocket, and, preparing to open
it, said, "Nobody has yet asked why I am here one fortnight before I was
expected. Has curiosity suddenly died out of the venerable Chateau de
Gramont, that none of the ladies who honor its ancient walls by their
presence care to know?"

"We all care!" exclaimed Bertha.

"That we do!" responded Madeleine. "Why was it, Maurice?"

"The reason chiefly concerns you, Madeleine."

"Me! You are jesting."

"Not at all; I came home because I remembered that to-day was your
twenty-first birthday. I would not be absent upon your birthday, though
I did not know that your reaching your majority was to be celebrated by
a grand dinner."

"Madeleine's birthday was not thought of when your father invited his
friends to dinner," remarked the countess, curtly.

Maurice went on without heeding this explanation.

"I have brought you a little birthday token. Will you wear it for my
sake?"

As he spoke, he opened the case and took out a Roman brooch.

Madeleine's eyes