nfused but still smiling.

Ah! if he had known of the dream that Maria had kept concealed in one
corner of her heart ever since their first meeting. If he had known that
her only desire was to be chosen and loved by this handsome Maurice, who
had gone through their house and among poor Papa Gerard's bric-a-brac
like a meteor! Why not, after all? Did she not possess that great power,
beauty? Her father, her mother, and even her sister, the wise Louise,
had often said so to her. Yes! from the very first she had been charmed
by this young man with the golden moustache, and the ways of a young
lord; she had hoped to please him, and later, in spite of poverty and
death, she had continued to be intoxicated with this folly and to dream
of this narcotic against grief, of the return of this Prince Charming.
Poor Maria, so good and so artless, who had been told too many times
that she was pretty! Poor little spoiled child!

When he left you yesterday, little Maria, after half an hour's pleasing
conversation, Maurice said to you jokingly: "Do not tell Violette, above
all, that we have met. I should lose my best friend." You not only said
nothing to Amedee, but you told neither your mother nor your sister. For
Louise and Madame Gerard are prudent and wise, and they would tell you
to avoid this rash fellow who has accosted you in a public place, and
has told you at once that you are beautiful and beloved. They would
scold you; they would tell you that this young man is of a rich and
distinguished family; that his mother has great ambitions for him; that
you have only your old black dress and beautiful eyes, and to-morrow,
when you return to the Louvre, Madame Gerard will establish herself near
your easel and discourage the young gallant.

But, little Maria, you conceal it from your mother and Louise! You have
a secret from your family! To-morrow when you make your toilette before
the mirror and twist up your golden hair, your heart will beat with hope
and vanity. In the Louvre your attention will be distracted from your
work when you hear a man's step resound in a neighboring gallery, and
when Maurice arrives you will doubtless be troubled, but very much
surprised and not displeased, ah! only too much pleased. Little Maria,
little Maria, he talks to you in a low tone now. His blond moustache is
very near your cheek, and you do well to lower your eyes, for I see a
gleam of pleasure under your long lashes. I do not hear what he says,