roughed, and had the appearance of an old country actress.

"I do not see, sir, what you can say against a marriage such as ours,"
said the old man to me.

"The laws of Rome forefend!" I cried, laughing.

The marchioness gave me a look filled with inquietude as well as
disapprobation, which seemed to say, "Is it possible that at my age I
have become but a concubine?"

We sat down upon a bench, in the gloomy clump of trees planted at the
corner of the high terrace which commands La Place Louis XV, on the
side of the Garde-Meuble. Autumn had already begun to strip the trees of
their foliage, and was scattering before our eyes the yellow leaves
of his garland; but the sun nevertheless filled the air with grateful
warmth.

"Well, is your work finished?" asked the old man, in the unctuous tones
peculiar to men of the ancient aristocracy.

And with these words he gave a sardonic smile, as if for commentary.

"Very nearly, sir," I replied. "I have come to the philosophic
situation, which you appear to have reached, but I confess that I--"

"You are searching for ideas?" he added--finishing for me a sentence,
which I confess I did not know how to end.

"Well," he continued, "you may boldly assume, that on arriving at the
winter of his life, a man--a man who thinks, I mean--ends by denying
that love has any existence, in the wild form with which our illusions
invested it!"

"What! would you deny the existence of love on the day after that of
marriage?"

"In the first place, the day after would be the very reason; but my
marriage was a commercial speculation," replied he, stooping to speak
into my ear. "I have thereby purchased the care, the attention, the
services which I need; and I am certain to obtain all the consideration
my age demands; for I have willed all my property to my nephew, and as
my wife will be rich only during my life, you can imagine how--"

I turned on the old marquis a look so piercing that he wrung my hand
and said: "You seem to have a good heart, for nothing is certain in this
life--"

"Well, you may be sure that I have arranged a pleasant surprise for her
in my will," he replied, gayly.

"Come here, Joseph," cried the marchioness, approaching a servant who
carried an overcoat lined with silk. "The marquis is probably feeling
the cold."

The old marquis put on his overcoat, buttoned it up, and taking my arm,
led me to the sunny side of the terrace.

"In your work," he continued, "you h