ast letters he received informed him that the legitimist movement had
become more serious, the Duchess de Berry preparing to leave Massa. He
also heard that she had gone successively to the south, and had unfurled
the white flag in La Vendee. Ireneus resolved to go. When he saw the
conduct of Ebba, her deep distress when he was sick and the joy which
had burst forth when he recovered, he could not conceal from himself that
she entertained sentiments toward him which he did not reciprocate. He
loved the young girl, and experienced much pleasure from the
contemplation of her delicate grace and melancholy beauty. He loved the
sound of her melodious voice. More than once since the discovery he had
made, he asked himself if he should not look on what had happened as a
signal interposition of Heaven in his favor. A quiet life, a comfortable
home, the love of friends and of a pretty woman, certainly deserved some
thanks. He however was soon hurried from this idyllic existence by the
ardor of his youth, and the prospect of an adventurous career. To some
men a peaceable life does not seem existence. They are like certain
birds, which show themselves only in the tempest.

Ireneus was of this character. When he carefully scrutinized his heart,
he saw that but a portion of it could belong to Ebba: that with her he
would constantly be persecuted by repinings at fate, and would long for
the excitement of battle and camp. Should he then accept a pure heart
from the young girl? Should he deceive her? Honor required him to leave
her.

M. de Vermondans was painfully surprised when he heard of this
determination. He had grown to look on Ireneus as a son, and perhaps, in
the fondness of his heart, had made a happy dream for the future career
of Ebba and himself. He attempted to persuade him to lay aside the plan,
but in vain.

"Take care, dear Ireneus, that you do not become dazzled by the prestige
of a sentiment, generous and noble it is true, but which may result in
misfortune to yourself, without benefiting others. How many men thus
neglect their advantages, and attribute the blame to Providence, which
places happiness within their grasp, but which they do not see, so
dazzled are they by some imaginary attraction. If this attraction fades
away, they tell how they looked behind; they regret what they have lost
when it is too late. Fortune has granted what they wished but neglected
to others."

"But duty, uncle! duty!"

"God forbid