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24 proceeded rapidly, showing her the little bunch of violets which he had taken the evening before he left CompeigneCompiegne [sic], though so dry and faded that nothing remained to indicate that they once were flowers but their perfume lingering round the envelope.

"You see how precious I have held even these few withered leaves—and your bouquet to-night is formed again of violets."

"They were an anonymous present, sent this morning."

"And you do not the least suspect the donor?" said the King, smiling.

"My suspicions," replied Francesca, "are far too presumptuous for utterance."

"Presumption is not a word for a mouth so lovely—it belongs rather to the one who ventured on such unworthy offerings, more than repaid by the happiness of their acceptance."

"Your Grace forgets," answered Francesca, "that there might be circumstances which made their refusal more embarrassing than their acceptance, however painful that was and is."

"Ah! you fear my mother, or the Cardinal's anger," exclaimed Louis; "but I am, and, when I choose, can be, the master. Madame de Soissons told me how timid you were; but, surely, my