ask you a question.
How can you confide all your affairs and all your secrets to a man
who professes to have no principles?'

"Monsieur de Camors laughed.

"'Oh, he talks thus out of bravado,' he answered. 'He thinks to
make himself more interesting in your eyes by these Mephistophelian
airs. At bottom he is a good fellow.'

"'But,' I answered, 'he has faith in nothing.'

"'Not in much, I believe. Yet he has never deceived me. He is an
honorable man.'

"I opened my eyes wide at this.

"'Well,' he said, with an amused look, 'what is the matter, Miss
Mary?'

"'What is this honor you speak of?'

"'Let me ask your definition of it, Miss Mary,' he replied.

"'Mon Dieu!' I cried, blushing deeply, 'I know but little of it, but
it seems to me that honor separated from morality is no great thing;
and morality without religion is nothing. They all constitute a
chain. Honor hangs to the last link, like a flower; but if the
chain be broken, honor falls with the rest.' He looked at me with
strange eyes, as if he were not only confounded but disquieted by my
philosophy. Then he gave a deep sigh, and rising said:

"'Very neat, that definition-very neat.'

"That night, at the opera, he plied me with bonbons and orange ices.
Madame de Campvallon accompanied us; and at parting, I begged her to
call for me next day on her way to the Bois, for she is my idol.
She is so lovely and so distinguished--and she I knows it well. I
love to be with her. On our return home, Louis remained silent,
contrary to his custom. Suddenly he said, brusquely:

"'Marie, do you go with the Marquise to the Bois to-morrow?'

"'Yes.'

"'But you see her often, it seems to me-morning and evening. You
are always with her.'

"'Heavens! I do it to be agreeable to you. Is not Madame de
Campvallon a good associate?'

"'Excellent; only in general I do not admire female friendships.
But I did wrong to speak to you on this subject. You have wit and
discretion enough to preserve the proper limits.'

"This, my mother, was what he said to me. I embrace you.

Ever your
"MARIE."

............................

"March.

"I hope, my own mother, not to bore you this year with a catalogue
of fetes and festivals, lamps and girandoles; for Lent is coming.
To-d