e the
happiness of Ourson and Agnella.

VIOLETTE'S SACRIFICE

When the dinner hour came, Violette arose, dressed herself and entered
the dining-room where Agnella and Passerose were awaiting her. Ourson
was not there.

"Ourson is not with you, mother," said Violette.

"I have not seen him," said Agnella.

"Nor I," said Passerose; "I will go and seek him."

She entered his chamber and found him seated upon his bed, his head
resting upon his arm.

"Come, Ourson, come quick; we are waiting dinner for you."

"I cannot come," said Ourson, in a weak voice; "I have a strange
heaviness in my head."

Passerose flew to inform Agnella and Violette of his illness and they
were by his side in an instant. Ourson made an effort to rise in order
to reassure them but he fell upon a chair. Agnella found that he had a
violent fever and she prevailed upon him to lie down. Violette
absolutely refused to leave him.

"I am the cause of his illness," she said, "and I will not leave his
side till he is well. I shall die of anxiety if you force me to leave my
dear brother."

Agnella and Passerose also installed themselves near their dear invalid
but alas! soon poor Ourson did not recognise them. He was delirious! He
called his mother and Violette every moment and continued to call them
most importunately and to complain of their absence, even while they
were holding him in their arms.

Agnella and Violette never left him day nor night during all his
sickness. The eighth day, Agnella, exhausted with fatigue, had fallen
asleep near the poor sufferer's bed; his difficult respiration and
lifeless eye seemed to announce the near approach of death. Violette was
on her knees, holding and pressing in her fine white hands the hairy
hands of Ourson and covering them with tears and kisses.

In the midst of this scene of desolation, a clear sweet song interrupted
the mournful silence of the chamber of the dying boy. Violette started.
This soft melody seemed to bring consolation and happiness; she raised
her head and saw a lark perched upon the open shutter.

"Violette!" said the lark.

Violette trembled fearfully.

"Violette," repeated the little soft voice of the lark, "do you love
Ourson?"

"Do I love him? Ah! love him--I love him more than any one else--more
than I love myself."

"Would you purchase his life at the price of your happiness?"

"Yes, gladly would I purchase life for him by the sacrifice of my
happiness and