embarrassment was greatly increased by this
unbroken silence, realised that it was best for him to take leave, since
as yet he had not been able to think of any of the suggestions which he
had said he intended to make.

He rose, blushed, and stammered:

"I will return another day. I find that I have so badly succeeded in
reproducing the charming design of the head of the saint that you may
perhaps have need of some explanations from me."

Angelique looked him fully in the face with her sweet, great eyes.

"Oh, not at all. But come again, Monsieur. Do not hesitate to do so, if
you are in the least anxious about the execution of the work."

He went away, happy from the permission given him, but chilled by the
coldness of manner of the young girl. Yes, he realised that she did not
now, and never would, love him. That being the case, what use was there
in seeing her? Yet on the morrow, as well as on the following days,
he did not fail to go to the little house on the Rue des Orfevres. The
hours which he could not pass there were sad enough, tortured as he was
by his uncertainties, distressed by his mental struggles. He was never
calm, except when he was near her as she sat at her frame. Provided that
she was by his side, it seemed to him that he could resign himself to
the acceptance of the fact that he was disagreeable to her.

Every morning he arrived at an early hour, spoke of the work, then
seated himself as if his presence there were absolutely necessary. Then
he was in a state of enchantment simply to look at her, with her finely
cut features, her motionless profile, which seemed bathed in the liquid
golden tints of her hair; and he watched in ecstasy the skilful play of
her flexible hands, as she moved them up and down in the midst of the
needlefuls of gold or silk. She had become so habituated to his
presence that she was quite at her ease, and treated him as a comrade.
Nevertheless, he always felt that there was between them something
unexpressed which grieved him to the heart, he knew not why.
Occasionally she looked up, regarding him with an amused, half-mocking
air, and with an inquiring, impatient expression in her face. Then,
finding he was intensely embarrassed she at once became very cold and
distant.

But Felicien had discovered one way in which he could rouse her, and
he took advantage of it. It was this--to talk to her of her art, of the
ancient masterpieces of embroidery he had seen, either prese