tenderness as she had ever felt for him before.
"Yes, monsieur, in my country true love can make every kind of

sacrifice," the Duchess was saying, in a simper.
"You have more passion than Frenchwomen," said Maximilien, whose

burning gaze fell on Emilie. "They are all vanity."
"Monsieur," Emilie eagerly interposed, "is it not very wrong to

calumniate your own country? Devotion is to be found in every nation."
"Do you imagine, mademoiselle," retorted the Italian, with a sardonic

smile, "that a Parisian would be capable of following her lover all
over the world?"

"Oh, madame, let us understand each other. She would follow him to a
desert and live in a tent but not to sit in a shop."

A disdainful gesture completed her meaning. Thus, under the influence
of her disastrous education, Emile for the second time killed her

budding happiness, and destroyed its prospects of life. Maximilien's
apparent indifference, and a woman's smile, had wrung from her one of

those sarcasms whose treacherous zest always let her astray.
"Mademoiselle," said Longueville, in a low voice, under cover of the

noise made by the ladies as they rose from the table, "no one will
ever more ardently desire your happiness than I; permit me to assure

you of this, as I am taking leave of you. I am starting for Italy in a
few days."

"With a Duchess, no doubt?"
"No, but perhaps with a mortal blow."

"Is not that pure fancy?" asked Emilie, with an anxious glance.
"No," he replied. "There are wounds which never heal."

"You are not to go," said the girl, imperiously, and she smiled.
"I shall go," replied Maximilien, gravely.

"You will find me married on your return, I warn you," she said
coquettishly.

"I hope so."
"Impertinent wretch!" she exclaimed. "How cruel a revenge!"

A fortnight later Maximilien set out with his sister Clara for the
warm and poetic scenes of beautiful Italy, leaving Mademoiselle de

Fontaine a prey to the most vehement regret. The young Secretary to
the Embassy took up his brother's quarrel, and contrived to take

signal vengeance on Emilie's disdain by making known the occasion of
the lovers' separation. He repaid his fair partner with interest all

the sarcasm with which she had formerly attacked Maximilien, and often
made more than one Excellency smile by describing the fair foe of the

counting-house, the amazon who preached a crusade against bankers, the
young girl whose love had evaporated before a bale of muslin. The

Comte de Fontaine was obliged to use his influence to procure an
appointment to Russia for Auguste Longueville in order to protect his

daughter from the ridicule heaped upon her by this dangerous young
persecutor.

Not long after, the Ministry being compelled to raise a levy of peers
to support the aristocratic party, trembling in the Upper Chamber

under the lash of an illustriouswriter, gave Monsieur Guiraudin de
Longueville a peerage, with the title of Vicomte. Monsieur de Fontaine

also obtained a peerage, the reward due as much to his fidelity in
evil days as to his name, which claimed a place in the hereditary

Chamber.
About this time Emilie, now of age, made, no doubt, some serious

reflections on life, for her tone and manners changed perceptibly.
Instead of amusing herself by saying spiteful things to her uncle, she

lavished on him the most affectionate attentions; she brought him his
stick with a persevering devotion that made the cynical smile, she

gave him her arm, rode in his carriage, and accompanied him in all his
drives; she even persuaded him that she liked the smell of tobacco,

and read him his favorite paper La Quotidienne in the midst of clouds
of smoke, which the malicious old sailor intentionally blew over her;

she learned piquet to be a match for the old count; and this fantastic
damsel even listened without impatience to his periodical narratives

of the battles of the Belle-Poule, the manoeuvres of the Ville de
Paris, M. de Suffren's first expedition, or the battle of Aboukir.

Though the old sailor had often said that he knew his longitude and
latitude too well to allow himself to be captured by a young corvette,

one fine morning Paris drawing-rooms heard the news of the marriage of
Mademoiselle de Fontaine to the Comte de Kergarouet. The young

Countess gave splendid entertainments to drown thought; but she, no
doubt, found a void at the bottom of the whirlpool; luxury was

ineffectual to disguise the emptiness and grief of her sorrowing soul;
for the most part, in spite of the flashes of assumed gaiety, her

beautiful face expressed unspoken melancholy. Emilie appeared,
however, full of attentions and consideration for her old husband,

who, on retiring to his rooms at night, to the sounds of a lively
band, would often say, "I do not know myself. Was I to wait till the

age of seventy-two to embark as pilot on board the Belle Emilie after
twenty years of matrimonial galleys?"

The conduct of the young Countess was marked by such strictness that
the most clear-sighted criticism had no fault to find with her.

Lookers on chose to think that the vice-admiral had reserved the right
of disposing of his fortune to keep his wife more tightly in hand; but

this was a notion as insulting to the uncle as to the niece. Their
conduct was indeed so delicatelyjudicious that the men who were most

interested in guessing the secrets of the couple could never decide
whether the old Count regarded her as a wife or as a daughter. He was

often heard to say that he had rescued his niece as a castaway after
shipwreck; and that, for his part, he had never taken a mean advantage

of hospitality when he had saved an enemy from the fury of the storm.
Though the Countess aspired to reign in Paris and tried to keep pace

with Mesdames the Duchesses de Maufrigneuse and du Chaulieu, the
Marquises d'Espard and d'Aiglemont, the Comtesses Feraud, de

Montcornet, and de Restaud, Madame de Camps, and Mademoiselle des
Touches, she did not yield to the addresses of the young Vicomte de

Portenduere, who made her his idol.
Two years after her marriage, in one of the old drawing-rooms in the

Faubourg Saint-Germain, where she was admired for her character,
worthy of the old school, Emilie heard the Vicomte de Longueville

announced. In the corner of the room where she was sitting, playing
piquet with the Bishop of Persepolis, her agitation was not observed;

she turned her head and saw her former lover come in, in all the
freshness of youth. His father's death, and then that of his brother,

killed by the severeclimate of Saint-Petersburg, had placed on
Maximilien's head the hereditary plumes of the French peer's hat. His

fortune matched his learning and his merits; only the day before his
youthful and fervid eloquence had dazzled the Assembly. At this moment

he stood before the Countess, free, and graced with all the advantages
she had formerly required of her ideal. Every mother with a daughter

to marry made amiable advances to a man gifted with the virtues which
they attributed to him, as they admired his attractive person; but

Emilie knew, better than any one, that the Vicomte de Longueville had
the steadfast nature in which a wise woman sees a guarantee of

happiness. She looked at the admiral who, to use his favorite
expression, seemed likely to hold his course for a long time yet, and

cursed the follies of her youth.
At this moment Monsieur de Persepolis said with Episcopal grace: "Fair

lady, you have thrown away the king of hearts--I have won. But do not
regret your money. I keep it for my little seminaries."

PARIS, December 1829.
ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy.
Beaudenord, Godefroid de

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
The Firm of Nucingen

Dudley, Lady Arabella
The Lily of the Valley