last refuge of power in France, where
passions have now no other obstacles to overcome than personal
antipathies, or differences of fortune,--the obstinacy of an
old-fashioned Breton woman and the dignity of Doctor Minoret created a
barrier between these lovers, which was to end, as such obstacles often
do, not in destroying but in strengthening love. To an ardent man a
woman's value is that which she costs him; Savinien foresaw a struggle,
great efforts, many uncertainties, and already the young girl was
rendered dearer to him; he was resolved to win her. Perhaps our feelings
obey the laws of nature as to the lastingness of her creations; to a
long life a long childhood.

The next morning, when they woke, Ursula and Savinien had the same
thought. An intimate understanding of this kind would create love if it
were not already its most precious proof. When the young girl parted her
curtains just far enough to let her eyes take in Savinien's window, she
saw the face of her lover above the fastening of his. When one reflects
on the immense services that windows render to lovers it seems natural
and right that a tax should be levied on them. Having thus protested
against her godfather's harshness, Ursula dropped the curtain and opened
her window to close the outer blinds, through which she could continue
to see without being seen herself. Seven or eight times during the day
she went up to her room, always to find the young viscount writing,
tearing up what he had written, and then writing again--to her, no
doubt!

The next morning when she woke La Bougival gave her the following
letter:--

To Mademoiselle Ursula:

Mademoiselle,--I do not conceal from myself the distrust a young man
inspires when he has placed himself in the position from which your
godfather's kindness released me. I know that I must in future
give greater guarantees of good conduct than other men; therefore,
mademoiselle, it is with deep humility that I place myself at your feet
and ask you to consider my love. This declaration is not dictated by
passion; it comes from an inward certainty which involves the whole of
life. A foolish infatuation for my young aunt, Madame de Kergarouet, was
the cause of my going to prison; will you not regard as a proof of my
sincere love the total disappearance of those wishes, of that image, now
effaced from my heart by yours? No sooner did I see you, asleep and so
engaging in your childlike slumber at Bouron, than