nded because
you have accepted a shelter against the bad weather. You are here, as the
good Marianne has just said, in the house of God, and I will say in my
turn, beneath the eye of God. These are very great words about so small a
matter, he added with a smile. But you are in pain? Ah! you see, you have a
cold already.

He proposed making her take a little warm wine, which Marianne declared to
be a sovereign remedy, and spoke of going to wake up his servant.

Marianne opposed this with all her power.

--Since you have the kindness to offer something to our dear young lady,
she said, let me make it. Good Heavens! to wake up Mademoiselle Veronica!
what would she say? that I am good for nothing, and she would be right.

--Well, said Marcel, I am going to show you where you will find what is
necessary.

They both went down to the kitchen, as quietly as possible, so as not to
disturb Veronica's slumber, and Marianne declared that with an armful of
dry wood, she would have finished in a few minutes.

--Then I leave you, said the priest; I must not leave Mademoiselle Suzanne
alone.

He remained several seconds longer, hesitating, following the movements of
the old governess without seeing them, then all at once he quickly
remounted the stair-case.

XXXVI.

TETE-A-TETE.

"'Tis yours to use aright the hour
Which destiny may leave you,
To drain the cup of oldest wine,
And pluck the morning's roses."

A. BUSQUET (_La poesie des heures_).

He halted at the threshold, pale and trembling as if he were about to
commit a crime.

He passed his hand over his brow, it was damp with a cold sweat. What!
Suzanne was there, in his house, alone, in the middle of the night, in his
own room, beside his fire, seated in his arm-chair. Oh, blessed vision! Was
it possible? Was he dreaming? Would the charming picture disappear? And he
remained there, motionless, anxious, not daring to move a step, for fear of
seeing her disappear. But yes, it is she indeed; she has hidden her
charming face in her hands, and it seems to him that tears are stealing
through her fingers.

He sprang towards her.

--Oh! Mademoiselle, what is the matter? What is the matter? Why these
tears, which break my heart? Confide your troubles to me, and, I swear to
you, if it be in my power, I will alleviate them.

--You cannot, answered Suzanne sadly, lifting to him her great moist eyes.

--I cannot! do not believe that, my child: the prie