le
conflicting ideas. But by dint of inventing chimeras, weaving romances,
and cudgeling his brains, he hit at last upon one of the hopeful
stratagems that are sure to occur to your mind if you persevere long
enough, a stratagem which must make clear to the most inexperienced
woman that here was a man who took a fervent interest in her. The
caprice of social conventions puts as many barriers between lovers as
any Oriental imagination can devise in the most delightfully fantastic
tale; indeed, the most extravagant pictures are seldom exaggerations. In
real life, as in the fairy tales, the woman belongs to him who can reach
her and set her free from the position in which she languishes. The
poorest of calenders that ever fell in love with the daughter of the
Khalif is in truth scarcely further from his lady than Gaston de Nueil
from Mme. de Beauseant. The Vicomtesse knew absolutely nothing of M. de
Nueil's wanderings round her house; Gaston de Nueil's love grew to the
height of the obstacles to overleap; and the distance set between him
and his extemporized lady-love produced the usual effect of distance, in
lending enchantment.

One day, confident in his inspiration, he hoped everything from the love
that must pour forth from his eyes. Spoken words, in his opinion, were
more eloquent than the most passionate letter; and, besides, he would
engage feminine curiosity to plead for him. He went, therefore, to M. de
Champignelles, proposing to employ that gentleman for the better success
of his enterprise. He informed the Marquis that he had been entrusted
with a delicate and important commission which concerned the Vicomtesse
de Beauseant, that he felt doubtful whether she would read a letter
written in an unknown handwriting, or put confidence in a stranger.
Would M. de Champignelles, on his next visit, ask the Vicomtesse if
she would consent to receive him--Gaston de Nueil? While he asked the
Marquis to keep his secret in case of a refusal, he very ingeniously
insinuated sufficient reasons for his own admittance, to be duly passed
on to the Vicomtesse. Was not M. de Champignelles a man of honor, a
loyal gentleman incapable of lending himself to any transaction in bad
taste, nay, the merest suspicion of bad taste! Love lends a young man
all the self-possession and astute craft of an old ambassador; all the
Marquis' harmless vanities were gratified, and the haughty grandee
was completely duped. He tried hard to fathom Gaston'