t
when perplexed or troubled, and nodded gloomily. "To whom?"

"To Madame de Courcelles."

"And are you not very happy?"

"Happy! I am the most miserable dog unhanged?"

I was more at fault now than ever.

"I ... judging from trifles which some would perhaps scarcely have
observed," I said, hesitatingly, "I--I thought you were interested in
Madame de Courcelles?"

"Interested!" cried he, pushing back his chair and springing to his
feet, as if the word had stung him. "By heaven! I love that woman as I
never loved in my life."

"Then why ..."

"I'll tell you why--or, at least, I will tell you as much as I may--as I
can; for the affair is hers, and not mine. She has a cousin--curse
him!--to whom she was betrothed from childhood. His estates adjoined
hers; family interests were concerned in their union; and the parents on
both sides arranged matters. When, however, Monsieur de Courcelles fell
in love with her--a man much older than herself, but possessed of great
wealth and immense political influence--her father did not hesitate to
send the cousin to the deuce and marry his daughter to the Minister of
Finance. The cousin, it seems, was then a wild young fellow; not
particularly in love with her himself; and not at all inconsolable for
her loss. When, however, Monsieur de Courcelles was good enough to die
(which he had the bad taste to do very hastily, and without making, by
any means, the splendid provision for his widow which he had promised),
our friend, the cousin, comes forward again. By this time he is enough
man of the world to appreciate the value of land--more especially as he
has sold, mortgaged, played the mischief with nearly every acre of his
own. He pleads the old engagement, and, as he is pleased to call it, the
old love. Madame de Courcelles is a young widow, very solitary, with no
one to love, no object to live for, and no experience of the world. Her
pity is easily awaked; and the result is that she not only accepts the
cousin, but lends him large sums of money; suffers the title-deeds of
her estates to go into the hands of his lawyer; and is formally
betrothed to him before the eyes of all Paris!"

"Who is this man? Where is he?" I asked, eagerly.

"He is an officer of Chasseurs, now serving with his regiment in
Algiers--a daring, dashing, reckless fellow; heartless and dissipated
enough; but a splendid soldier. However, having committed her property
to his hands, and suffered her name to be