anvas."

"Stop," cried Andre with an angry glance in his eyes. "The picture you
refer to is the portrait of the purest and most innocent girl in the
world. I shall love her all my life; but, if possible, my respect for
her is greater than my love. I should consider myself a most degraded
wretch, had I ever whispered in her ear a word that her mother might not
have listened to."

A feeling of the most instantaneous relief thrilled through M. de
Mussidan's heart.

"You will pardon me," suggested he blandly, "but when one sees a
portrait in a studio, the inference is that a sitting or two has taken
place?"

"You are right. She came here secretly, and without the knowledge of her
family, at the risk of her honor and reputation, thus affording me the
strongest proof of her love. It was cruel of me," continued the young
artist, "to accept this proof of her entire devotion, and yet not only
did I accept it, but I pleaded for it on my bended knee, for how else
was I to hear the music of her voice, or gladden my eyes with her
beauty? We love each other, but a gulf wider than the stormy sea divides
us. She is an heiress, come of a proud and haughty line of nobles, while
I----"

Andre paused, waiting for some words wither of encouragement or censure;
but the Count remained silent, and the young man continued,--

"Do you know who I am? A poor foundling, placed in the Hospital of
Vendome, the illicit offspring of some poor betrayed girl. I started in
the world with twenty francs in my pocket, and found my way to Paris;
since then I have earned my bread by my daily work. You only see here
the more brilliant side of my life; for an artist here--I am a common
work-man elsewhere."

If M. de Mussidan remained silent, it was from extreme admiration of the
noble character, which was so unexpectedly revealed to him, and he was
endeavoring to conceal it.

"She knows all this," pursued Andre, "and yet she loves me. It was here,
in this very room, that she vowed that she could never be the wife
of another. Not a month ago, a gentleman, well born, wealthy, and
fascinating, with every characteristic that a woman could love, was a
suitor for her hand. She went boldly to him, told him the story of our
love, and, like a noble-hearted gentleman, he withdrew at once, and
to-day is my best and kindest friend. Now, Marquis, would you like to
see this young girl's picture?"

"Yes," answered the Count, "and I shall feel deeply grateful to you