Close to the house they were met by the
old servant. "My young lady had just sent
me to call you in to coffee, Monsieur," said
Guillaume. "She has kept a cup hot for
you, and another cup for Monsieur Lomaque."

The land-steward started — this time, with
genuine astonishment. "For me!" he
exclaimed. "Mademoiselle Rose has troubled
herself to keep a cup of coffee hot for me?"
The old servant stared; Trudaine stopped,
and looked back. "What is there so very
surprising," he asked, "in such an ordinary
act of politeness on my sister's part?"

"Excuse me, Monsieur Trudaine," answered
Lomaque; "You have not passed such an
existence as mine, you are not a friendless old
man, you have a settled position in the world,
and are used to be treated with consideration.
I am not. This is the first occasion in my
life on which I find myself an object for the
attention of a young lady; and it takes me
by surprise. I repeat my excuses — pray let
us go in."

Trudaine made no reply to this curious
explanation. He wondered at it a little,
however; and he wondered still more, when, on
entering the drawing-room, he saw Lomaque
walk straight up to his sister, and— apparently
not noticing that Danville was sitting
at the harpsichord, and singing at the time—
address her confusedly and earnestly with a
set speech of thanks for his hot cup of coffee.
Rose looked perplexed, and half-inclined to
laugh, as she listened to him. Madame
Danville, who sat by her side, frowned, and
tapped the land-steward contemptuously on
the arm with her fan.

"Be so good as to keep silent until my son
has done singing," she said. Lomaque made
a low bow; and retiring to a table in a
corner, took up a newspaper lying on it. If
Madame Danville had seen the expression
that came over his face when he turned away
from her, proud as she was, her aristocratic
composure might possibly have been a little
ruffled.

Danville had finished his song, had quitted
the harpsichord, and was talking in whispers
to his bride: Madame Danville was adding a
word to the conversation every now and then;
Trudaine was seated apart at the far end of
the room, thoughtfully reading a letter, which
he had taken from his pocket, when an exclamation
from Lomaque, who was still engaged
with the newspaper, caused all the other
occupants of the apartment to suspend their
employments, and look up.

"What is it?" asked Danville, impatiently.

"Shall I be interrupting, if I explain?"
inquired Lomaque, getting very weak in the
eyes again, as he deferentially addressed
himself to Madame Danville.

"You have already interrupted us," said
the old lady sharply, "so you may now just
as well explain."

"It is a passage from the Scientific Intelligence,
which has given me great delight, and
which will be joyful news for every one here."
Saying this, Lomaque looked significantly at
Trudaine, and then read from the newspaper
these lines:

"ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, PARIS.—The vacant sub-
Professorship of Chemistry has been offered, we are
rejoiced to hear, to a gentleman whose modesty has
hitherto prevented his scientific merits from becoming
sufficiently prominent in the world. To the members
of the Academy he has been long since known as the
originator of some of the most remarkable improvements
in chemistry which have been made of late
years — improvements, the credit of which he has, with
rare, and we were almost about to add, culpable
moderation, allowed others to profit by with impunity.
No man, in any profession, is more thoroughly entitled
to have a position of trust and distinction conferred
on him by the state than the gentleman to whom we
refer— M. Louis Trudaine."

Before Lomaque could look up from the
paper to observe the impression which his
news produced, Rose had gained her brother's
side, and was kissing him in a flutter of
delight.

"Dear Louis," she cried, clapping her
hands, "let me be the first to congratulate
you! How proud and glad I am! You accept
the professorship, of course."

Trudaine, who had hastily and confusedly
put his letter back in his pocket, the moment
Lomaque began to read, seemed at a loss for
an answer. He patted his sister's hand rather
absently, and said,

"I have not made up my mind; don't ask
me why, Rose— at least not now, not just
now." An expression of perplexity and
distress came over his face, as he gently
motioned her to resume her chair.

"Pray, is a sub-professor of chemistry
supposed to hold the rank of a gentleman?"
asked Madame Danville, without the slightest
appearance of any special interest in
Lomaque's news.

"Of course not," replied her son, with a.
sarcastic laugh; "he is expected to work, and
make himself useful— what gentleman does
that?"

"Charles!" exclaimed the old lady,
reddening with anger.

"Bah!" cried Danville, turning his back
on her, "enough of chemistry. Lomaque!
now you have begun reading the newspaper,
try if you can't find something interesting to
read about. What are the last accounts from
Paris? Any more symptoms of a general
revolt?"

Lomaque turned to another part of the
paper. "Bad, very bad prospects for the
restoration of tranquillity," he said. "Necker,
the Peoples' minister is dismissed. Placards
against popular gatherings are posted all over
Paris. The Swiss Guards have been ordered
to the Champs Elysées, with four pieces of
artillery. No more is yet known, but the
worst is dreaded. The breach between the
aristocracy and the people is widening
fatally almost hour by hour."