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 pretty head, as she listened to the flattery and compliments of her admirers; but there was a point at which the young girl would grow suddenly cold and stern, when her eyes would flash angrily, and her-lip curl with scorn, as she uttered a few vividly indignant words, and swept away, leaving the man who had dared offend her, humbled and bewildered by her rebuke. Then she would fly to the side of her husband, and press her rosy lips to his withered hand, and look up smilingly into his eyes, as a child looks into a father’s face. She sincerely loved the old man, and he loved and trusted her, until the gad day that Leon de Saint. Evre- monde came to court, with his rare, brilliant, deep-blue eyes, and his long, fair hair, his grace, and courtesy, and bravery. He was a cousin of the marquis, and, therefore, entitled to pay greater attention to the young marquise than any other gentleman at court; but, to the surprise of every one, after the first few weeks of pleasant, friendly intercourse with his beau- tiful kinswoman, Saint Evremonde appeared carefully to shun her; and when they met unavoidably, a visible coldness and restraint marked their manners toward each other. The whole court wondered, for no one had ever before failed to admire the young Marquise de Hautlieu, and Saint Evremonde, though only a lieutenant in the King’s Guards, and totally without fortune, was eminently accomplished and fascinating; and many a lady of rank and fortune would gladly have bestowed her hand upon the noble young soldier. That these two clarmihg young persons should appear to select each for special avoidance and dislike, excited the surprise of all, and the suspicion of the old marquis. With the keen eye of jealousy he noted every action and word of Saint Evre- monde, every movement and glance of his wife. Why should Leon stand aloof with eyes bent on the ground, when other gentlemen crowded around Vivienne with smiling homage? He could talk and smile gay!y enough with every other lady in the court—why not with her? What was it that deepened the color in the cheeks of both, and made their hands tremble as they were forced to touch, for an instant, in some stately dance? Only a madly jealous man could have seen these things; but the marquis dil see, or imaginefl he saw them. That bis wife had been pure, and lovely, and loving as an angel hitherto; that Saint Evremonde was ike Bayard, a chevalier, “‘sans jeur, et sans reproche,” formed no bar to his suspicions and his rage. True, nothing had occurred which he could possibly wrest into a cause of quarrel with his cousin; and no one but himself dared to entertain a thought against the fair and spotless character of his wife. So much the deeper and subtler must his revenge be; and for his own sake, no one else must suspect the truth.

Without a word of explanation, hp suddenly ordered his wife to make preparations for leaving Paris, and taking up her residence at Hautlieu.

Vivienne was surprised and distressed by the command. She pouted a little, and entreated like a child for a short delay. Briefly and sternly the marquis refused to grant an hour’s respite.

Surprised by his harsh tone, she looked up into his face, and her eyes filled with tears.

‘Pardon me, monsieur; I could not mean to offend you, who are always so kind, so good,” she murmured, ‘I will cheerfully go with you anywhere.”

And she bent down with the old sweet caress, taking his hand in both hers and pressing soft kisses uponit. But he shook off her light touch, and pushing ber fiercely and roughly from him, he left the room.

Vivienne was utterly confounded by his conduct. For a moment she. stood bewildered; then she threw herself weeping on a couch, and was only roused by the sound of her mother’s voice, asking permission to enter the room, Vivienne’s first impulse was to spring up and run to sob out her grief upon her mother’s bosom; but then came the quick thought, «He is my husband. I have no right to speak of this, even to my mother,”’

So, with a hasty hand she dropped the heavy curtains over the windows, wiped away her tears, and as she bade her mother enter, she quickly loosened her long hair, and showered it about her face, hiding completely her flushed, tear-stained cheeks. Madame de Beranger did not discover in the dim light anything unusual in her daughter's appearance; and she began immediately and eagerly to speak of the pleasure she anticipated in a quiet residence at Hautlieu with her child. She, too, had been requested by the marquis, but with great ceremony and deference, to prepare for the journey—and she hastened with delight to obey.

There was no time for farewells. The marquis went alone to the palace, in the evening, and announced their intended departure.

There were many regrets expressed. The king himself was graciously pleased to lament that the court was about to lose one of its brightest ornaments, and the courtiers murmured their participation in his majesty’s