her sight was the adoration of those who
sought but a word or a smile to treasure and
be proud of. And this woman had humbled
herself to him—had waited but for him to be
gracious. The demon of vanity had begun to
work in his breast, ere ever the ring
approached his finger.

Between the dances, he went up and spoke
to her. Her manner was far less earnest and
encouraging than usual; if not cold, it was at
least marked with a calm dignity, very different
to her usual tone with him. This piqued
him, and he longed for an occasion when he
might converse with her more at ease than
he could do there, standing before her seat,
and surrounded by the other guests. She
complained of the heat, and he hastened to
offer to conduct her to one of the less
crowded and cooler apartments: a proposal
she quietly accepted.

Passing through several rooms, they reached
the last of the suite, which was becoming
nearly deserted by the recommencement of
the dancing, and, leading her to a sofa,
Gaston took a place by her side.

The conversation was resumed, by her, in
the same calm, ordinary tone; by him, with
a certain earnestness, which she seemed at
first rather to put aside; but by degrees, as
she saw his interest evidently increasing, she
suffered her manner to relax, and her apparent
indifference to give way to a softer aspect.

"I am told, Monsieur de Montrouge," she
said at last, " that you are going to be
married to your cousin. Forgive me if I commit
an indiscretion in speaking thus on the
subject; but I trust you will believe how
sincere is the interest I feel in aught that
so deeply concerns your happiness."

Gaston had coloured violently at the
commencement of her speech. Geneviève! this
was the way he was keeping inviolate his
love and faith to her! But, for this emotion
his wily interlocutor was fully prepared, and
she put into the conclusion of her sentence an
accent that soon reassured him. She knew
now that he loved another; she had
regulated her own feelings, or at least, the
expression of them, accordingly; and he might look
upon her now as a friend. She was a noble
woman, after all!

"You will not be offended," she said, in
the same kindly, smiling manner, "if I ask
you to accept a slight token of the friendship
I feel for you. Many of your other friends
will offer you marriage-gifts. You will not,
I trust, deny me a similar privilege."

As she spoke, she drew the ring from her
finger, and between her words, glided it on
his. She knew that, once there, she need not
fear his removing it.

He took the hand that performed the act,
and covered it with passionate kisses.

Poor little Geneviève's sweet face bears a
far different aspect to the sunny one it
presented that happy evening when, with Gaston
by her side, she and her father strolled out
together.

Now she rarely sees him, and though his
manner is always kind, it is ever constrained
and uneasy. Sometimes he betrays a restless
impatience; sometimes a sort of pitying
regard; and he seems at all times ill at ease
and dissatisfied, but more with himself than
with others.

At first she used to question him tenderly;
but now she has learned that this, so far from
leading to a solution of the mystery, only
adds to the uneasy symptoms.

At times she is jealous, offended, angry;
but then her father blames him, and her
woman's nature rises up to defend and
justify him. But, let her mood be what it
will, she is ever anxious, fearful, and
unhappy.

All this Madame de Vaucrasson learns;
and her cruel nature takes a savage delight
in the sufferings of the unoffending girl.

Meanwhile, Gaston's stormy love for the
relentless woman secures daily a deeper hold
on him: changing his whole nature, making
him who was gentle, cheerful, and loving,
impatient, irritable, jealous, at times almost
brutal. Occasionally, this fierce passion
almost takes the aspect of hate: he treats
her with tyranny and scorn; he has a
thousand caprices; a thousand exigencies, and
fierce disputes, embittering all their intercourse,
rise between them.

At last, the Marquise remembers the
promise the magician extracted from her, that
last day when they parted. She had never
performed it. Perhaps to this act of
disobedience on her part may, in some degree,
be attributable the unhappiness the realisation
of her desires has brought her. She
will lose no time in attempting to avert his
displeasure; and not later than tomorrow,
she will go to the Rue des Truands, and lay
her difficulties before him.

That night Gaston came to spend the
evening with her. He seemed in better
humour than usual; and she fancied that
the magical power of the old man might
have made him acquainted with her resolve,
and that this had already produced a certain
amelioration in the position. Her determination
was, therefore, more than ever fixed
that the morrow should not pass without
bringing the execution of her design.

The evening passed quietly. Gaston was
more like his former self than she had seen
him since the commencement of their
attachment; and she rejoiced in the idea that had
presented itself to her. At last the hour for
his departure approached.

"How long it is," he said, " since we have
had a day altogether to ourselves! Let us
go tomorrow into the country, and spend it
there."

"Not to-morrow, Gaston. I have engagements
in town: but the day after,—any
other day."