increase of fever, she soon got over it and was
all the better afterwards.

Sister Agatha found it out. Marie, as a
gage d'amour—the most sacred she possessed—
gave M. Adolphe one of her little medallions.
And the Sister missed it.

"Where has it gone to, wretched child?
What has become of the blessed medallion?
O, what a huge, enormous sin you have
committed!"

"I gave it to M. Adolphe, Madame."

"A demoiselle give presents to a young
unmarried man! Fie, then!"

"I gave it out of gratitude, Madame."

"My little one, you need show your gratiude
only in paying M. Adolphe's bill. You
need not give him medals."

"He wished it, Madame."

"Oh! he wished it, Mademoiselle ?"

"Yes, Madame."

"Out of gratitude, also, Mademoiselle?"
The Sister's voice was thickly satirical. Marie
was silent.

"You love M. Adolphe, then ?"

Still silent.

"And he loves you?"

Not a word.

"Mademoiselle, M. Adolphe must be dismissed."

"No, Madame."

"I insist, Mademoiselle."

"I cannot obey, Madame."

"Well! I shall go then to Madame, his
mother, and demand his instant dismissal
from her! I came to nurse a sick person,
not to favour a courtship, reflect, Mademoiselle,
on my position."

"Oh Madame! my mother!—dear Sainte
Agathe! —do not destroy me—do not quite
kill me! Oh, Sainte Agathe, do not go to
Madame Adolphe! She will take away her
son, and that would kill me!" And poor
little Marie wrung her hands.

But the Sister was a rigid person with severe
notions of duty—in other people. No prayers
were availing. She shook her head mournfully,
declared she was in despair, but was
none the less resolved. Off she went to
Madame Adolphe to detail all she knew of
her son's love-lorn proceedings.

Madame Adolphe was shocked—grieved—
terrified—agonized. Being a woman of
superstitious imagination she asked earnestly
if Marie possessed any philtre, any charm,
by which she had worked on M. Adolphe.
The Sister considered the matter attentively;
but told her "No!" for even if she had possessed
any, those three blessed medallions
would have nullified it. This silenced the
suspicion effectually; and Madame Adolphe
kissed the Sister on both cheeks, in joyful
gratitude that she had hung the three
medals round Marie's neck. However
Madame Adolphe had but one path to take,
and it must be taken resolutely. She had
other views for her son. Madame Dufour's
daughter had twenty thousand francs, and
Madame Dufour had been very amiable to
them lately. Madame de Vigny had fifteen
thousand francs a year, and a rich bachelor
uncle, and Madame de Vigny had asked
after M. Adolphe yesterday, and invited
him to a party. No; Madame Adolphe
had other views for her Jules, and could
not possibly entertain the idea of a little
Mademoiselle Marie, Protestant, dowerless;
and, as far as she knew, without expectations.
In France, as it is the mothers who
marry their sons, and not the sons who
marry themselves, Madame Adolphe's views
were paramount, and Mademoiselle Marie
must be forgotten.

Jules came home, and his mother welcomed
him stiffly.

"My mother, what has vexed you?" he
said, eating his sorrel soup very hot. It was
a fast day, and they had a refreshing soup
made of green leaves and milk.

"My heart is full, Jules."

"What has happened, mother?"

"The Sister Sainte Agathe, my son"—
The blood came into M. Adolphe's face.

"Well, what of the Sister Sainte Agathe?"

"She has shown me my son's hearrt."

M. Adolphe attempted a pleasantry.

"I assure you, mother, the old Sainte
showed you a counterfeit. I possess my own
heart; she has not got it."

The pleasantry fell dead.

"We are talking of business, Jules," said
the lady severely; and M. Jules bowed
an apology.

"You love your young patient, my son. The
Sister has told me—worthy woman—that
you have even committed the sin of giving or
of taking a gage d'amour from her. You
know, Jules, it is necessary that you should
marry with money. Now, what marriage
portion has this Mademoiselle Marie?"

"Her beauty and her virtue, my mother."

"Her beauty will not keep the house, my
son, nor educate your children; for her virtue
—that may pass. The less it is inquired into
the better."

"Mother!—how can you, who are so good
and kind, say such a cruelty—such a sin ?"

"It is true, my son. Did not her friend and
patroness Madame Dupuy dismiss her because
of her incautious—you see I use mild words—
conduct towards the Comte her husband?"

"It is a falsehood, mother, indeed!"

"My dear Jules, you have lost your head.
Take some medicine and go to bed."

"Mother! You speak as if I were still
tied to your apron strings! I am too old to
be treated as a baby, now!"

"At any rate, my dear Jules, I shall treat
you so much like a baby as to use my legal
power for your good. I forbid you to marry
that girl. I will never consent to a ridiculous
union, which will destroy our position and
make my grandchildren beggars."

Madame Adolphe walked out of the room,
and forbade her son to follow her.