e world, with fates so different, typifying orders
of womanhood so opposed. Isaura was naturally the first to break the
silence that weighed like a sensible load on all present.

She advanced towards Rameau, with sincere kindness in her look and tone.

"Accept my congratulations," she said, with a grave smile. "Your mother
informed me last evening of your nuptials. Without doubt I see Madame
Gustave Rameau;"--and she extended her hand towards Julie. The poor
Ondine shrank back for a moment, blushing up to her temples. It was the
first hand which a woman of spotless character had extended to her since
she had lost the protection of Madame Surville. She touched it timidly,
humbly, then drew her bridegroom on; and with head more downcast than
Gustave, passed through the group without a word.

She did not speak to Gustave till they were out of sight and hearing of
those they had left. Then, pressing his arm passionately, she said: "And
that is the demoiselle thou halt resigned for me! Do not deny it. I
am so glad to have seen her; it has done me so much good. How it has
deepened, purified, my love for thee! I have but one return to make;
but that is my whole life. Thou shalt never have cause to blame
me--never--never!"

Savarin looked very grave and thoughtful when he rejoined Lemercier.

"Can I believe my eyes?" said Frederic. "Surely that was Julie
Caumartin leaning on Gustave Rameau's arm! And had he the assurance, so
accompanied, to salute Madame de Vandemar, and Mademoiselle Cicogna,
to whom I understood he was affianced? Nay, did I not see Mademoiselle
shake hands with the Ondine? or am I under one of the illusions which
famine is said to engender in the brain?"

"I have not strength now to answer all these interrogatives. I have a
story to tell; but I keep it for dinner. Let us hasten to thy apartment.
De Breze is doubtless there waiting us."

CHAPTER XIV.

Unprescient of the perils that awaited him, absorbed in the sense of
existing discomfort, cold, and hunger, Fox lifted his mournful visage
from his master's dressing-gown, in which he had encoiled his shivering
frame, on the entrance of De Breze and the concierge of the house in
which Lemercier had his apartment. Recognising the Vicomte as one of his
master's acquaintances, he checked the first impulse that prompted him
to essay a feeble bark, and permitted himself, with a petulant whine,
to be extracted from his covering, and held in the arms of the