uld know the whole truth. Last evening, after you
had gone upstairs, I had quite a talk with the Abbe Cornille, and he
explained to me why Monseigneur, after great hesitation, had at last
decided to call his son to Beaumont. One of his greatest troubles was
the impetuosity of the young man, the uncontrollable haste which he
manifested to plunge into the excitement of life, without listening to
the advice of his elders. After having with pain renounced all hope of
making him a priest, his father found that he could not establish him in
any occupation suitable to his rank and his fortune. He would never be
anything but a headstrong fellow, restless, wandering, yielding to his
artistic tastes when so inclined. He was alarmed at seeing in his son
traits of character like those from which he himself had so cruelly
suffered. At last, from fear that he might take some foolish step, and
fall in love with someone beneath him in position, he wished to have him
here, that he might be married at once."

"Very well," said Angelique, who did not yet understand.

"Such a marriage had been proposed even before his arrival, and all
preliminaries were settled yesterday, so that the Abbe Cornille formally
announced that in the autumn Felicien would wed Mademoiselle Claire de
Voincourt. You know very well the Hotel de Voincourt there, close to the
Bishop's Palace. The family are very intimate with Monseigneur. On both
sides, nothing better could be hoped for, either in the way of name or
of fortune. The Abbe himself highly approves of the union."

The young girl no longer listened to these reasons of the fitness of
things. Suddenly an image appeared to come before her eyes--that of
Claire. She saw her, as she had occasionally had a glimpse of her in
the alleys of the Park during the winter, or as she had seen her on fete
days in the Cathedral. A tall young lady, a brunette, very handsome, of
a much more striking beauty than her own, and with a royal bearing and
appearance. Notwithstanding her haughty air, she was said to be very
good and kind.

"So he is to marry this elegant young lady, who is not only beautiful
but very rich," she murmured.

Then, as if suddenly pierced by a sharp agony, she exclaimed:

"He uttered a falsehood! He did not tell me this!"

She recollected now the momentary hesitation of Felicien, the rush
of blood which had coloured his cheeks when she spoke to him of their
marriage. The shock was so great that she