mness.

"I am sure," she thought, "Marius would approve, if he knew."

She had not long to wait for her reward. The bell rang: it was her
old professor, the Signor Gismondo Pulei, who came to give her his
daily lesson.

The liveliest joy beamed upon his face, more shriveled than an
apple at Easter; and the most magnificent anticipations sparkled in
his eyes.

"I knew it, signora!" he exclaimed from the threshold: "I knew that
angels bring good luck. As every thing succeeds to you, so must
every thing succeed to those who come near you."

She could not help smiling at the appropriateness of the compliment.

"Something fortunate has happened to you, dear master?" she asked.

"That is to say, I am on the high-road to fortune and glory," he
replied. "My fame is extending; pupils dispute the privilege of
my lesson."

Mlle. Gilberte knew too well the thoroughly Italian exaggeration of
the worthy maestro to be surprised.

"This morning," he went on, "visited by inspiration, I had risen
early, and I was working with marvelous facility, when there was a
knock at my door. I do not remember such an occurrence since the
blessed day when your worthy father called for me. Surprised, I
nevertheless said, 'Come in;' when there appeared a tall and robust
young man, proud and intelligent-looking."

The young girl started.

"Marius!" cried a voice within her.

"This young man," continued the old Italian, "had heard me spoken
of, and came to apply for lessons. I questioned him; and from the
first words I discovered that his education had been frightfully
neglected, that he was ignorant of the most vulgar notions of the
divine art, and that he scarcely knew the difference between a
sharp and a quaver. It was really the A, B, C, which he wished me
to teach him. Laborious task, ungrateful labor! But he manifested
so much shame at his ignorance, and so much desire to be instructed,
that I felt moved in his favor. Then his countenance was most
winning, his voice of a superior tone; and finally he offered me
sixty francs a month. In short, he is now my pupil."

As well as she could, Mlle. Gilberte was hiding her blushes behind
a music-book.

"We remained over two hours talking," said the good and simple
maestro, "and I believe that he has excellent dispositions.
Unfortunately, he can only take two lessons a week. Although a
nobleman, he works; and, when he took off his glove to hand me a
month in advance, I notice