d their excuse was their honesty; with eyes wide open they
played this comedy of affection; not even a hand-clasp did they allow
each other and their restraint infused unalloyed delight into the
simple greetings with which they met.

Every evening the ladies went to church. Madame Deberle was enchanted
with the novel pleasure she was enjoying. It was so different from
evening dances, concerts, and first nights; she adored fresh
sensations, and nuns and priests were now constantly in her company.
The store of religion which she had acquired in her school-days now
found new life in her giddy brain, taking shape in all sorts of
trivial observances, as though she were reviving the games of her
childhood. Helene, who on her side had grown up without any religious
training, surrendered herself to the bliss of these services of the
month of Mary, happy also in the delight with which they appeared to
inspire Jeanne. They now dined earlier; they gave Rosalie no peace
lest she should cause them to be late, and prevent their securing good
seats. Then they called for Juliette on the way. One day Lucien was
taken, but he behaved so badly that he was afterward left at home. On
entering the warm church, with its glare of wax candles, a feeling of
tenderness and calm, which by degrees grew necessary to Helene, came
over her. When doubts sprang up within her during the day, and the
thought of Henri filled her with indefinable anxiety, with the evening
the church once more brought her peace. The chants arose overflowing
with divine passion; the flowers, newly culled, made the close
atmosphere of the building still heavier. It was here that she
breathed all the first rapture of springtide, amidst that adoration of
woman raised to the status of a cult; and her senses swam as she
contemplated the mystery of love and purity--Mary, virgin and mother,
beaming beneath her wreath of white roses. Each day she remained
longer on her knees. She found herself at times with hands joined in
entreaty. When the ceremony came to an end, there followed the
happiness of the return home. Henri awaited their appearance at the
door; the evenings grew warmer, and they wended their way through the
dark, still streets of Passy, while scarce a word passed between them.

"How devout you are getting, my dear!" said Madame Deberle one night,
with a laugh.

Yes, it was true; Helene was widely opening the portals of her heart
to pious thoughts. Never could she have