one tittle from any predetermined course of
action. I had learnt the inflexibility of those
thin, delicate lips; I knew how anger would
turn, his fair complexion to deadly white, and
bring the cruel light into his pale blue eyes.
The love I bore to any one seemed to be a reason
for his hating them, and so I went on pitying myself
one long dreary afternoon during that absence
of his of which I have spoken, only sometimes
remembering to check myself in my murmurings
by thinking of the new unseen link between
us, and then crying afresh to think how wicked
I was. Oh, how well I remember that long
October evening! Amante came in from time
to time, talking; away to cheer me talking
about dress and Paris, and I hardly know what,
but from time to time looking at me keenly
with her friendly dark eyes, and with serious
interest, too, though all her words were about
frivolity. At length she heaped the fire with
wood, drew the heavy silken curtains close; for
I had been anxious hitherto to keep them open
so that I might see the pale moon mounting the
skies, as I used to see her the same moon
rise from behind the Kaiser Stuhl at Heidelberg;
but the sight made me cry, so Amante
shut it out. She dictated to me as a nurse does
to a child.

"Now, madame must have the little kitten
to keep her company," she said, "while I go
and ask Marthon for a cup of coffee." I
remember that speech, and the way it roused me,
for I did not like Amante to think I wanted
amusing by a kitten. It might be my petulance,
but this speech such as she might have made
to a child annoyed me, and I said that I had
reason for my lowness of spirits meaning that
they were not of so imaginary a nature that I
could be diverted from them by the gambols of
a kitten. So, though I did not choose to tell
her all, I told her a part; and as I spoke, I
began to suspect that the good creature knew
much of what I withheld, and that the little
speech about the kitten was more thoughtfully
kind than it had seemed at first. I said that it
was so long since I had heard from my father;
that he was an old man, and so many things
might happen I might never see him again
ana I so seldom heard from him or my brother;
it was a more complete and total separation than
I had ever anticipated when I married, and
something of my home and of my life previous
to my marriage I told the good Amante; for I
had not been brought up as a great lady, and
the sympathy of any human being was precious
tome.

Amante listened with interest, and in return
told me some of the events and sorrows of her
own life. Then, remembering her purpose, she
set out in search of the coffee, which ought to
have been brought to me an hour before; but
in my husband's absence my wishes were but
seldom attended to, and I never dared to give
orders.

Presently she returned, bringing the coffee
and a great large cake.

"See!" said she, setting it down. "Look
at my plunder. Madame must eat. Those who
eat always laugh. And, besides, I have a little
news that will please madame." Then she told
me that, lying on a table in the great kitchen,
was a bundle of letters, come by the courier
from Strasburg that very afternoon; then, fresh
from her conversation with me, she had hastily
untied the string that bound them, but had only
just traced out one that she thought was from
Germany, when a servant-man came in, and with
the start he gave her she dropped the letters,
which he picked up, swearing at her for having
untied and disarranged them. She told him
that she believed there was a letter there for her
mistress; but he only swore the more, saying
that if there was it was no business of hers, or
of his either, for that he had the strictest orders
always to take all letters that arrived during his
master's absence into the private sitting-room of
the latter a room into which I had never
entered, although it opened out of my husband's
dressing-room.

I asked Amante if she had not conquered and
brought me this letter. No, indeed, she
replied, it was almost as much as her life was
worth to live among such a set of servants; it
was only a month ago that Jacques had stabbed
Valentin for some jesting talk. Had I never
missed Yalentin that handsome young lad who
carried up the wood into my salon? Poor fellow!
he lies dead and cold now, and they said
in the village he had put an end to himself, but
those of the household knew better. Oh! I
need not be afraid; Jacques was gone, no one
knew where; but with such people it was not
safe to upbraid or insist. Monsieur would be at
home the next day, and it would not be long to
wait.

But I felt as if I could not exist till the next
day without the letter. It might be to say that
my father was ill, dying he might cry for his
daughter from his death-bed! In short, there
was no end to the thoughts and fancies that
haunted me. It was of no use for Amante to
say that after all she might be mistaken that
she did not read writing well that she had but
a glimpse of the address; I let my coffee cool,
my food all became distasteful, and I wrung my
hands with impatience to get at the letter, and
have some news of my dear ones at home. All
the time, Amante kept her imperturbable good
temper, first reasoning, then scolding. At last
she said, as if wearied out, that if I would
consent to make a good supper, she would see what
could be done as to our going to Monsieur's
room in search of the letter, after the servants
were all gone to bed. We agreed to go together
when all was still, and look over the letters;
there could be no harm in that; and
yet, somehow, we were such cowards we dared
not do it openly and in the face of the household.

Presently my supper came up partridges,
bread, fruits, and cream. How well I remember
that supper! We put the untouched cake
away in a sort of buffet, and poured the cold
coffee out of the window, in order that the