e shall
form the committee.'

"Octave's fork dropped on his glass, broke it, and broke his plate. He
had turned as pale as death, and flashed a thunderous glare at M. de
Grandville, by which he hinted at my presence, and which I caught.

"'Forgive me, my dear fellow. I did not see Maurice,' the President went
on. 'Serizy and I, after being the witnesses to your marriage, became
your accomplices; I did not think I was committing an indiscretion in
the presence of these two venerable priests.'

"M. de Serizy changed the subject by relating all he had done to please
his wife without ever succeeding. The old man concluded that it was
impossible to regulate human sympathies and antipathies; he maintained
that social law was never more perfect than when it was nearest to
natural law. Now Nature takes no account of the affinities of souls; her
aim is fulfilled by the propagation of the species. Hence, the Code,
in its present form, was wise in leaving a wide latitude to chance. The
incapacity of daughters to inherit so long as there were male heirs was
an excellent provision, whether to hinder the degeneration of the race,
or to make households happier by abolishing scandalous unions and giving
the sole preference to moral qualities and beauty.

"'But then,' he exclaimed, lifting his hand with a gesture of disgust,
'how are we to perfect legislation in a country which insists on
bringing together seven or eight hundred legislators!--After all, if I
am sacrificed,' he added, 'I have a child to succeed me.'

"'Setting aside all the religious question,' my uncle said, 'I would
remark to your Excellency that Nature only owes us life, and that it is
society that owes us happiness. Are you a father?' asked my uncle.

"'And I--have I any children?' said Comte Octave in a hollow voice, and
his tone made such an impression that there was no more talk of wives or
marriage.

"When coffee had been served, the two Counts and the two priests stole
away, seeing that poor Octave had fallen into a fit of melancholy which
prevented his noticing their disappearance. My patron was sitting in an
armchair by the fire, in the attitude of a man crushed.

"'You now know the secret of my life, said he to me on noticing that we
were alone. 'After three years of married life, one evening when I came
in I found a letter in which the Countess announced her flight. The
letter did not lack dignity, for it is in the nature of women to
preserve some v