will manage to have you invited to Rosembray, for the meet will

probably take place in Duc de Verneuil's park.
Pray believe, my dear poet, that I am none the less, for life,

Your friend, Eleonore de M.
"There, Ernest, just look at that!" cried Canalis, tossing the letter

at Ernest's nose across the breakfast-table; "that's the two
thousandth love-letter I have had from that woman, and there isn't

even a 'thou' in it. The illustrious Eleonore has never compromised
herself more than she does there. Marry, and try your luck! The worst

marriage in the world is better than this sort of halter. Ah, I am the
greatest Nicodemus that ever tumbled out of the moon! Modeste has

millions, and I've lost her; for we can't get back from the poles,
where we are to-day, to the tropics, where we were three days ago!

Well, I am all the more anxious for your triumph over the grand
equerry, because I told the duchess I came here only for your sake;

and so I shall do my best for you."
"Alas, Melchior, Modeste must needs have so noble, so grand, so well-

balanced a nature to resist the glories of the Court, and all these
splendors cleverly displayed for her honor and glory by the duke, that

I cannot believe in the existence of such perfection,--and yet, if she
is still the Modeste of her letters, there might be hope!"

"Well, well, you are a happy fellow, you young Boniface, to see the
world and your mistress through green spectacles!" cried Canalis,

marching off to pace up and down the garden.
Caught between two lies, the poet was at a loss what to do.

"Play by rule, and you lose!" he cried presently, sitting down in the
kiosk. "Every man of sense would have acted as I did four days ago,

and got himself out of the net in which I saw myself. At such times
people don't disentangle nets, they break through them! Come, let us

be calm, cold, dignified, affronted. Honor requires it; English
stiffness is the only way to win her back. After all, if I have to

retire finally, I can always fall back on my old happiness; a fidelity
of ten years can't go unrewarded. Eleonore will arrange me some good

marriage."
CHAPTER XXVI

TRUE LOVE
The hunt was destined to be not only a meet of the hounds, but a

meeting of all the passions excited by the colonel's millions and
Modeste's beauty; and while it was in prospect there was truce between

the adversaries. During the days required for the arrangement of this
forestrial solemnity, the salon of the villa Mignon presented the

tranquil picture of a united family. Canalis, cut short in his role of
injured love by Modeste's quick perceptions, wished to appear

courteous; he laid aside his pretensions, gave no further specimens of
his oratory, and became, what all men of intellect can be when they

renounce affectation, perfectlycharming. He talked finances with
Gobenheim, and war with the colonel, Germany with Madame Mignon, and

housekeeping with Madame Latournelle,--endeavoring to bias them all in
favor of La Briere. The Duc d'Herouville left the field to his rivals,

for he was obliged to go to Rosembray to consult with the Duc de
Verneuil, and see that the orders of the Royal Huntsman, the Prince de

Cadignan, were carried out. And yet the comic element was not
altogether wanting. Modeste found herself between the depreciatory

hints of Canalis as to the gallantry of the grand equerry, and the
exaggerations of the two Mesdemoiselles d'Herouville, who passed every

evening at the villa. Canalis made Modeste take notice that, instead
of being the heroine of the hunt, she would be scarcely noticed.

MADAME would be attended by the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, daughter-in-
law of the Prince de Cadignan, by the Duchesse de Chaulieu, and other

great ladies of the Court, among whom she could produce no sensation;
no doubt the officers in garrison at Rouen would be invited, etc.

Helene, on the other hand, was incessantly telling her new friend,
whom she already looked upon as a sister-in-law, that she was to be

presented to MADAME; undoubtedly the Duc de Verneuil would invite her
father and herself to stay at Rosembray; if the colonel wished to

obtain a favor of the king,--a peerage, for instance,--the opportunity
was unique, for there was hope of the king himself being present on

the third day; she would be delighted with the charmingwelcome with
which the beauties of the Court, the Duchesses de Chaulieu, de

Maufrigneuse, de Lenoncourt-Chaulieu, and other ladies, were prepared
to meet her. It was in fact an excessively amusing little warfare,

with its marches and countermarches and stratagems,--all of which were
keenly enjoyed by the Dumays, the Latournelles, Gobenheim, and

Butscha, who, in conclave assembled, said horrible things of these
noble personages, cruelly noting and intelligently studying all their

little meannesses.
The promises on the d'Herouville side were, however, confirmed by the

arrival of an invitation, couched in flattering terms, from the Duc de
Verneuil and the Master of the Hunt to Monsieur le Comte de La Bastie

and his daughter, to stay at Rosembray and be present at a grand hunt
on the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth, of November following.

La Briere, full of dark presentiments, craved the presence of Modeste
with an eagerness whose bitter joys are known only to lovers who feel

that they are parted, and parted fatally from those they love. Flashes
of joy came to him intermingled with melancholy meditations on the one

theme, "I have lost her," and made him all the more interesting to
those who watched him, because his face and his whole person were in

keeping with his profound feeling. There is nothing more poetic than a
living elegy, animated by a pair of eyes, walking about, and sighing

without rhymes.
The Duc d'Herouville arrived at last to arrange for Modeste's

departure; after crossing the Seine she was to be conveyed in the
duke's caleche, accompanied by the Demoiselles d'Herouville. The duke

was charmingly courteous, he begged Canalis and La Briere to be of the
party, assuring them, as he did the colonel, that he had taken

particular care that hunters should be provided for them. The colonel
invited the three lovers to breakfast on the morning of the start.

Canalis then began to put into execution a plan that he had been
maturing in his own mind for the last few days; namely, to quietly

reconquer Modeste, and throw over the duchess, La Briere, and the
duke. A graduate of diplomacy could hardly remain stuck in the

position in which he found himself. On the other hand La Briere had
come to the resolution of bidding Modeste an eternalfarewell. Each

suitor was therefore on the watch to slip in a last word, like the
defendant's counsel to the court before judgment is pronounced; for

all felt that the three weeks' struggle was approaching its
conclusion. After dinner on the evening before the start was to be

made, the colonel had taken his daughter by the arm and made her feel
the necessity of deciding.

"Our position with the d'Herouville family will be quite intolerable
at Rosembray," he said to her. "Do you mean to be a duchess?"

"No, father," she answered.
"Then do you love Canalis?"

"No, papa, a thousand times no!" she exclaimed with the impatience of
a child.

The colonel looked at her with a sort of joy.
"Ah, I have not influenced you," cried the true father, "and I will

now confess that I chose my son-in-law in Paris when, having made him
believe that I had but little fortune, he grasped my hand and told me

I took a weight from his mind--"
"Who is it you mean?" asked Modeste, coloring.

"THE MAN OF FIXED PRINCIPLES AND SOUND MORALITIES," said her father,
slyly, repeating the words which had dissolved poor Modeste's dream on

the day after his return.
"I was not even thinking of him, papa. Please leave me at liberty to

refuse the duke myself; I understand him, and I know how to soothe
him."

"Then your choice is not made?"
"Not yet; there is another syllable or two in the charade of my

destiny still to be guessed; but after I have had a glimpse of court