h he show
himself the crustiest of uncles; to prevent him from recurring to the
past, to speak soberly of the present, to confess that Mademoiselle
Charnot is aware of my feelings for her, and shows herself not entirely
insensible to them; but I am to avoid giving details, and must put off a
full explanation until later, when we can study the situation together.
M. Mouillard can not fail to be appeased by such deference, and to
observe a truce while I hint at the possibility of a family council.
Then, if these first advances are well received, I am to tell him that M.
Charnot is actually travelling in the neighborhood, and, without giving
it as certain, I may add that if he stops at Bourges he may like to
return my uncle's visit.

There my role ends. Jeanne and M. Charnot will do the rest. It is with
Jeanne, by the light of her eyes and her smile, that M. Mouillard is "to
study the situation;" he will have to struggle against the redoubtable
arguments of her youth and beauty. Poor man!

Jeanne is full of confidence. Her father, who has learned his lesson from
her, feels sure that my uncle will give in. Even I, who can not entirely
share this optimism, feel that I incline to the side of hope.

When I reached home, the porter handed me two cards from Larive. On the
first I read:

CH. LARIVE,
Managing Clerk.
P. P. C.

The second, on glazed cardboard, announced, likewise in initials, another
piece of news:

CH. LARIVE,
Formerly Managing Clerk.
P. F. P. M.

So the Parisian who swore he could not exist two days in the country is
leaving Paris. That was fated. He is about to be married; I'm sure I
don't object. The only consequence to me is that we never shall meet
again, and I shall not weep over that.

BOURGES, August 4th.

If you have ever been in Bourges, you may have seen the little Rue
Sous-les-Ceps, the Cours du Bat d'Argent and de la Fleur-de-lys, the Rues
de la Merede-Dieu, des Verts-Galants, Mausecret, du Moulin-le-Roi, the
Quai Messire-Jacques, and other streets whose ancient names, preserved by
a praiseworthy sentiment or instinctive conservatism, betoken an ancient
city still inhabited by old-fashioned people, by which I mean people
attached to the soil, strongly marked with the stamp of the provincial in
manners as in language; people who understand all that a name is to a
street--its honor, it