one upon the heart. His fear ceases, it is true; but the evil still
exists; and that seems to me to be far worse."

"Agreed; but he does not detect, he does not suspect the real enemy; he
does no prejudice to love itself; he concentrates all his strength on
the side where his strength will do no injury to anything or any one.
In a word, sire, my plan, which I confess I am surprised to find you
dispute, is mischievous to jealous people, it is true; but to lovers it
is full of advantage. Besides, let me ask, sire, who, except yourself,
has ever thought of pitying jealous people? Are they not a melancholy
crew of grumblers always equally unhappy, whether with or without
a cause? You may remove that cause, but you never can remove their
sufferings. It is a disease which lies in the imagination, and, like all
imaginary disorders, it is incurable. By the by, I remember an aphorism
upon this subject, of poor Dr. Dawley, a clever and amusing man, who,
had it not been for my brother, who could not do without him, I should
have with me now. He used to say, 'Whenever you are likely to suffer
from two affections, choose that which will give you the least trouble,
and I will allow you to retain it; for it is positive,' he said, 'that
that very ailment is of the greatest service to me, in order to enable
me to get rid of the other.'"

"Well and judiciously remarked, Henrietta," replied the king, smiling.

"Oh! we have some clever people in London, sire."

"And those clever people produce adorable pupils. I will grant this
Daley, Darley, Dawley, or whatever you call him, a pension for his
aphorism; but I entreat you, Henrietta, to begin by choosing the least
of your evils. You do not answer--you smile. I guess that the least of
your bugbears is your stay in France. I will allow you to retain this
information; and, in order to begin with the cure of the other, I will
this very day begin to look out for a subject which shall divert the
attention of the jealous members of either sex who persecute us both."

"Hush! this time some one is really coming," said Madame; and she
stooped to gather a flower from the thick grass at her feet. Some one,
in fact, was approaching; for, suddenly, a bevy of young girls ran down
from the top of the hillock, following the cavaliers--the cause of this
interruption being a magnificent hawk-moth, with wings like rose-leaves.
The prey in question had fallen into the net of Mademoiselle de
Tonnay-Charente