ing of aversion on her side.
He finished by requesting her to give him an answer. She shewed me the
letter, and I congratulated her, and advised her to accept, if there was
nothing about the young man which displeased her.

"There is nothing of the kind," she said, "and Rosalie thinks with you."

"Then tell him by word of mouth that you give your consent, and will
expect to see him at Marseilles."

"Very good; as you think so, I will tell him tomorrow."

When dinner was over a feeling of curiosity made me go into the room
where Annette was dining with the Venetian girl, whose name was
Marcoline. I was struck with astonishment on seeing her, for she was
completely changed, not so much by the pretty dress she had on as by the
contented expression of her face, which made her look quite another
person. Good humour had vanquished unbecoming rage, and the gentleness
born of happiness made her features breathe forth love. I could scarcely
believe that this charming creature before me was the same who had dealt
such a vigorous blow to my brother, a priest, and a sacred being in the
eyes of the common people. They were eating, and laughing at not being
able to understand each other, for Marcoline only spoke Venetian, and
Annette Genoese, and the latter dialect does not resemble the former any
more than Bohemian resembles Dutch.

I spoke to Marcoline in her native tongue, which was mine too, and she
said,--

"I seem to have suddenly passed from hell to Paradise."

"Indeed, you look like an angel."

"You called me a little devil this morning. But here is a fair angel,"
said she, pointing to Annette; "we don't see such in Venice."

"She is my treasure."

Shortly after my niece came in, and seeing me talking and laughing with
the two girls began to examine the new-comer. She told me in French that
she thought her perfectly beautiful, and repeating her opinion to the
girl in Italian gave her a kiss. Marcoline asked her plainly in the
Venetian manner who she was.

"I am this gentleman's niece, and he is taking me back to Marseilles,
where my home is."

"Then you would have been my niece too, if I had married his brother. I
wish I had such a pretty niece."

This pleasant rejoinder was followed by a storm of kisses given and
returned with ardour which one might pronounce truly Venetian, if it were
not that this would wound the feelings of the almost equally ardent
Provencals.

I took my niece for a sail in the bay, and