money would have paid for. I deceived you all round--over firing, oil,
and even money. O Raphael mine, don't have me for your wife, I am far

too cunning!" she said laughing.
"But how did you manage?"

"I used to work till two o'clock in the morning; I gave my mother half
the money made by my screens, and the other half went to you."

They looked at one another for a moment, both bewildered by love and
gladness.

"Some day we shall have to pay for this happiness by some terrible
sorrow," cried Raphael.

"Perhaps you are married?" said Pauline. "Oh, I will not give you up
to any other woman."

"I am free, my beloved."
"Free!" she repeated. "Free, and mine!"

She slipped down upon her knees, clasped her hands, and looked at
Raphael in an enthusiasm of devotion.

"I am afraid I shall go mad. How handsome you are!" she went on,
passing her fingers through her lover's fair hair. "How stupid your

Countess Foedora is! How pleased I was yesterday with the homage they
all paid to me! SHE has never been applauded. Dear, when I felt your

arm against my back, I heard a vague voice within me that cried, 'He
is there!' and I turned round and saw you. I fled, for I longed so to

throw my arms about you before them all."
"How happy you are--you can speak!" Raphael exclaimed. "My heart is

overwhelmed; I would weep, but I cannot. Do not draw your hand away. I
could stay here looking at you like this for the rest of my life, I

think; happy and content."
"O my love, say that once more!"

"Ah, what are words?" answered Valentin, letting a hot tear fall on
Pauline's hands. "Some time I will try to tell you of my love; just

now I can only feel it."
"You," she said, "with your lofty soul and your great genius, with

that heart of yours that I know so well; are you really mine, as I am
yours?"

"For ever and ever, my sweet creature," said Raphael in an uncertain
voice. "You shall be my wife, my protecting angel. My griefs have

always been dispelled by your presence, and my courage revived; that
angelic smile now on your lips has purified me, so to speak. A new

life seems about to begin for me. The cruel past and my wretched
follies are hardly more to me than evil dreams. At your side I breathe

an atmosphere of happiness, and I am pure. Be with me always," he
added, pressing her solemnly to his beating heart.

"Death may come when it will," said Pauline in ecstasy; "I have
lived!"

Happy he who shall divine their joy, for he must have experienced it.
"I wish that no one might enter this dear garret again, my Raphael,"

said Pauline, after two hours of silence.
"We must have the door walled up, put bars across the window, and buy

the house," the Marquis answered.
"Yes, we will," she said. Then a moment later she added: "Our search

for your manuscripts has been a little lost sight of," and they both
laughed like children.

"Pshaw! I don't care a jot for the whole circle of the sciences,"
Raphael answered.

"Ah, sir, and how about glory?"
"I glory in you alone."

"You used to be very miserable as you made these little scratches and
scrawls," she said, turning the papers over.

"My Pauline----"
"Oh yes, I am your Pauline--and what then?"

"Where are you living now?"
"In the Rue Saint Lazare. And you?"

"In the Rue de Varenne."
"What a long way apart we shall be until----" She stopped, and looked

at her lover with a mischievous and coquettish expression.
"But at the most we need only be separated for a fortnight," Raphael

answered.
"Really! we are to be married in a fortnight?" and she jumped for joy

like a child.
"I am an unnatural daughter!" she went on. "I give no more thought to

my father or my mother, or to anything in the world. Poor love, you
don't know that my father is very ill? He returned from the Indies in

very bad health. He nearly died at Havre, where we went to find him.
Good heavens!" she cried, looking at her watch; "it is three o'clock

already! I ought to be back again when he wakes at four. I am mistress
of the house at home; my mother does everything that I wish, and my

father worships me; but I will not abuse their kindness, that would be
wrong. My poor father! He would have me go to the Italiens yesterday.

You will come to see him to-morrow, will you not?"
"Will Madame la Marquise de Valentin honor me by taking my arm?"

"I am going to take the key of this room away with me," she said.
"Isn't our treasure-house a palace?"

"One more kiss, Pauline."
"A thousand, MON DIEU!" she said, looking at Raphael. "Will it always

be like this? I feel as if I were dreaming."
They went slowly down the stairs together, step for step, with arms

closely linked, trembling both of them beneath their load of joy. Each
pressing close to the other's side, like a pair of doves, they reached

the Place de la Sorbonne, where Pauline's carriage was waiting.
"I want to go home with you," she said. "I want to see your own room

and your study, and to sit at the table where you work. It will be
like old times," she said, blushing.

She spoke to the servant. "Joseph, before returning home I am going to
the Rue de Varenne. It is a quarter-past three now, and I must be back

by four o'clock. George must hurry the horses." And so in a few
moments the lovers came to Valentin's abode.

"How glad I am to have seen all this for myself!" Pauline cried,
creasing the silken bed-curtains in Raphael's room between her

fingers. "As I go to sleep, I shall be here in thought. I shall
imagine your dear head on the pillow there. Raphael, tell me, did no

one advise you about the furniture of your hotel?"
"No one whatever."

"Really? It was not a woman who----"
"Pauline!"

"Oh, I know I am fearfully jealous. You have good taste. I will have a
bed like yours to-morrow."

Quite beside himself with happiness, Raphael caught Pauline in his
arms.

"Oh, my father!" she said; "my father----"
"I will take you back to him," cried Valentin, "for I want to be away

from you as little as possible."
"How loving you are! I did not venture to suggest it----"

"Are you not my life?"
It would be tedious to set down accurately the charming prattle of the

lovers, for tones and looks and gestures that cannot be rendered alone
gave it significance. Valentin went back with Pauline to her own door,

and returned with as much happiness in his heart as mortal man can
know.

When he was seated in his armchair beside the fire, thinking over the
sudden and complete way in which his wishes had been fulfilled, a cold

shiver went through him, as if the blade of a dagger had been plunged
into his breast--he thought of the Magic Skin, and saw that it had

shrunk a little. He uttered the most tremendous of French oaths,
without any of the Jesuitical reservations made by the Abbess of

Andouillettes, leant his head against the back of the chair, and sat
motionless, fixing his unseeing eyes upon the bracket of the curtain

pole.
"Good God!" he cried; "every wish! Every desire of mine! Poor