y Marcoline sang the praises of Madame Audibert, but did not say
a word of the proposal she must have made to her. About the middle of the
piece, however, I thought I saw the explanation of the riddle, for the
young man was in the pit, and did not come to our box though there were
two empty places.

We returned home without a word about the merchant or Madame Audibert,
but as I knew in my own mind what had happened, I felt disposed to be
grateful, and I saw that Marcoline was overjoyed to find me more
affectionate than ever. At last, amidst our amorous assaults, Marcoline,
feeling how dearly I loved her, told me what had passed between her and
Madame Audibert.

"She spoke to me so kindly and so sensibly," said she, "but I contented
myself with saying that I would never marry till you told me to do so.
All the same I thank you with all my heart for the ten thousand crowns
you are willing to give me. You have tossed the ball to me and I have
sent it back. I will go back to Venice whenever you please if you will
not take me to England with you, but I will never marry. I expect we
shall see no more of the young gentleman, though if I had never met you I
might have loved him."

It was evidently all over, and I liked her for the part she had taken,
for a man who knows his own worth is not likely to sigh long at the feet
of an obdurate lady.

The wedding-day of my late niece came round. Marcoline was there, without
diamonds, but clad in a rich dress which set off her beauty and satisfied
my vanity.

CHAPTER IV

I Leave Marseilles--Henriette at Aix--Irene at Avignon--Treachery of
Possano--Madame d'Urfe Leaves Lyon

The wedding only interested me because of the bride. The plentiful rather
than choice repast, the numerous and noisy company, the empty
compliments, the silly conversation, the roars of laughter at very poor
jokes--all this would have driven me to despair if it had not been for
Madame Audibert, whom I did not leave for a moment. Marcoline followed
the young bride about like a shadow, and the latter, who was going to
Genoa in a week, wanted Marcoline to come in her train, promising to have
her taken to Venice by a person of trust, but my sweetheart would listen
to no proposal for separating her from me,--

"I won't go to Venice," she said, "till you send me there."

The splendours of her friend's marriage did not make her experience the
least regret at having refused the young wine merchant. The bride