s, and radiant;
and yet one could not look at the girl without a sentiment of deep
mournfulness. She was surrounded by a group of young men, and the ring
of her laugh jarred upon Graham's ear. He pressed Frederic's arm, and
directing his attention to the girl, asked who she was.

"Who? Don't you know? That is Julie Caumartin. A little while ago her
equipage was the most admired in the Bois, and great ladies condescended
to copy her dress or her coiffure; but she has lost her splendour, and
dismissed the rich admirer who supplied the fuel for its blaze, since
she fell in love with Gustave Rameau. Doubtless she is expecting him
to-night. You ought to know her; shall I present you?"

"No," answered Graham, with a compassionate expression in his manly
face. "So young; seemingly so gay. How I pity her!"

"What! for throwing herself away on Rameau? True. There is a great deal
of good in that girl's nature, if she had been properly trained. Rameau
wrote a pretty poem on her which turned her head and won her heart, in
which she is styled the 'Ondine of Paris,'--a nymph-like type of Paris
itself."

"Vanishing type, like her namesake; born of the spray, and vanishing
soon into the deep," said Graham. "Pray go and look for the Duval; you
will find me seated yonder."

Graham passed into a retired alley, and threw himself on a solitary
bench, while Lemercier went in search of Madame Duval. In a few minutes
the Frenchman reappeared. By his side was a lady well dressed, and as
she passed under the lamps Graham perceived that, though of a certain
age, she was undeniably handsome. His heart beat more quickly. Surely
this was the Louise Duval he sought.

He rose from his seat, and was presented in due form to the lady, with
whom Frederic then discreetly left him. "M. Lemercier tells me that you
think that we were once acquainted with each other."

"Nay, Madame; I should not fail to recognize you were that the case. A
friend of mine had the honour of knowing a lady of your name; and should
I be fortunate enough to meet that lady, I am charged with a commission
that may not be unwelcome to her. M. Lemercier tells me your nom de
bapteme is Louise."

"Louise Corinne, Monsieur."

"And I presume that Duval is the name you take from your parents?"

"No; my father's name was Bernard. I married, when I was a mere child,
M. Duval, in the wine trade at Bordeaux."

"Ah, indeed!" said Graham, much disappointed, but looking at her with a