I came to the
conclusion that she was, to say the least of it, very much interested in
Claude, but that, being of a kittenish disposition, she had coquetted
with the uncle in the playful way so frequently practised by women when
they look sweet upon one man with a view to quickening the pulses of
another, whose affections they aspire to secure.

If Claude said he was miserable, it was not so much because it was yet
an open question whether the young widow could reciprocate his feelings,
but because the image of Jeanne stood between him and his new love. He
knew that Jeanne was more than partial to him, and he felt that he had
been slowly but surely drawn towards her.

How much or how little had he really shown the interest he took in her
was the question that exercised his mind. Had he ever said anything that
she could have construed into an acknowledgment of a deeper feeling than
that of friendship, anything that would be at least morally binding? No,
certainly not in words; but then, to be sure, much can be said without
the use of spoken language. Of all the songs without words the love song
is the most legible. Besides, the most harmless of words can make
mischief if they are taken in connection with what has preceded. The
statement that twice two makes four is innocent enough in itself, but it
may, under given circumstances, be made to say that she has two eyes and
so have you, and that, if she could only vouchsafe to see with your eyes
as you see with hers, twice two in this particular case would make one.

Nor need you propound subtle solutions of arithmetical problems; you
need but admire the humble cottage as you go across fields with her, if
you want to commit yourself irrevocably, and so too, the mere mention of
the moon has been enough to dispose of a man for life.

Claude may not have strictly avoided every opening of this kind, but I
certainly do not think he had any cause for self-reproach. I felt sorry
for Jeanne, for it was evident that, for some time to come at least,
there was little prospect of her regaining whatever hold she might have
had on him. There was nothing to be done in that direction; so we
shelved Mademoiselle Jeanne _sine die,_ and talked of the other one.

That other one had been particularly sympathetic in her appreciation of
Claude's picture; it had at last been completed and sent to the Salon.
On the varnishing day it was sold to a dealer for two thousand francs.

"That goes to t