girl, you should go to the Cathedral any
Sunday afternoon"—

"I know," I interrupted. "A young lady
of common height, black hair and eyes, small
nose, clear skin, black shawl and dress, and a
pair of chocolate boots."

"And wears a bonnet," he added; the latter
article being extremely rare in Rouen at that
time, and generally considered as a mark of
great gentility.

"M. Grégoire," I said, "a place where I
may see so beautiful a face, any Sunday
afternoon, is worth knowing. It is no fault of
yours that I accidentally discovered this
before you had an opportunity of completing
your information. I am not so mean as to
take advantage of this fact. Do me the favour
—if you are a loyal man—of accepting a portrait
of his majesty King Louis Philippe."

Mr. Grégoire took a bright five-franc piece
that I gave him; and, gently remonstrating,
deposited it in a greasy leathern bag, which
he drew from somewhere under his blouse;
while I, having laid this foundation of our
friendship, and judging it well to pretend to
have at present no other feeling than curiosity
towards the owner of the chocolate boots,
said, "Ah, well! Beauty does not interest
me. A mere shadow has been hitherto the
object of my gallantry. I think I can dispense
with anything more substantial at
present."

This must have been quite unintelligible to
Mr. Grégoire, but he was a quiet man, and
"nil admirari " (though he did not know how
to say it in Latin) was his motto. This was
all that passed between us at this interview.

For six days I saw the shadow on the
blind; on the seventh I met the substance in
the Cathedral; which seemed to me now
like a very great deal of dry bread to a very
small quantity of sack. On the eighth day I
entered the porter's lodge again, with a nosegay,
and a letter, and another five-franc
piece.

"Monsieur Grégoire," I said, with a little
hesitation, "if you would do me the favour to
give this note and these flowers privately into
the hands of the lady they are addressed to."

"Mademoiselle La Roche!" he exclaimed,
with apparent surprise, the superscription
catching his eye.

"I have known her long," I said, thinking
to relieve him of responsibility in having
previously given me information about her:
"that is to say, her shadow."

"Her shadow?" said the porter, looking
puzzled.

"Yes. Her window, you know, is opposite
mine."

"It is"

"On the blind of that window, long before
I knew Mademoiselle La Roche, I used to see
and take an interest in her shadow. So, you
see, although you first gave me her name, and
told me that that ugly fellow was her brother,
our acquaintance is not your fault."

"Englishmen are so eccentric," said the
porter.

I felt tempted to unfold to him a little of
my theory of shadow worship, but recollecting
the fate of the whimsical author of A Journey
round my Room, who, having begun to
explain philosophically a simple question from
his man-servant, stopped short on perceiving
that his pains were thrown away, and was
thence triumphantly supposed to have been
posed by the latter, I determined rather to
submit to be considered eccentric.

"I may depend on you," I said.

''My word of honour," replied Mr. Grégoire,
with the grace and dignity of a crowned
king. My candle might have fallen out of its
socket many times that night, before I could
have found it in my heart to say a bitter
thing against my landlady. I had seen my shadow
again, and the bird-cage, and—what was
more important than all that night—I had also
seen the shadow of a nosegay in a vase, placed
between the light and the window, according
to a request in my letter. Three days after
—I know not by what means—I received a
note.

"Sir,—Your whimsical description of your
interest in my shadow has amused me so
much, that I have tried to persuade myself
that there can be no harm in receiving from
a stranger so pure and graceful a present as
a few flowers. I placed them near the window
last night, as you requested. You say you
have seen me lately. I entreat you to avoid
meeting me at present. You who have so
long shown yourself capable of silence must
promise me to remain strictly faithful to my
shadow for—say six months. By-and-by you
shall know the reason of all this. Meanwhile,
if you obey me, it will be a strong proof of
your sincerity. But, above all, do not make
the porter of the house in which I live your
confidant in this matter. Address me, in
future, at my friend Mademoiselle Polart's,
Rue Robec, No. 8. My brother has already
seen you in the 'loge,' and he is very
suspicious. MARIE STUART LA ROCHE."

"Six months!" I repeated, as I finished the
reading of this letter. "Would that I had to
toil seven years, as Jacob toiled for Rachel;
that you might see the strength and endurance
of my love. I read it a dozen times, and
wondered if a Frenchman, who had been
familiar with the words from childhood, could
see more meaning in them than I did. I
analysed even the subscription—the heartless
French form of "assurance of esteem and dis-
tinguished consideration," which I have not
thought it worth while to transcribe, and
found a meaning in every word. But that
constant craving, which distinguished my new
sentiment from its original form, began to
trouble me. A shadow every day, with the
occasional feast of a letter, seemed to me a
very spare diet for a strong, hearty, growing
passion like mine. The love of Jacob for
Rachel, I felt, must have been of a very cool,