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'No, I will not receive this great-uncle," began Hortense again, as she pushed aside the mirror; "you may receive him in my place. Do you think I am obliged to endure impertinences?" There you are!—you are putting things at their worst; you are getting excited, forgetting yourself, and rushing at conclusions."

44

"I tell you once more, I am ill."

"My dear idol, one must never be ill except at the suitable moment; and in this case take care, or he will fancy you are afraid of him.”

Madame Corneuil, on reflection, evidently was convinced that her mother was right, for she said to her:

"Since you wish me to submit to be so bored, so be it! Order my breakfast to be brought up, and send my maid to me."

"Nothing could be better," answered Madame Véretz. “Ah, my dear! I am not inflicting a bore upon you—it is a victory which I am preparing for you."

theology of Egypt not to know that in the human world, as in the divine, the struggle between the two principles ends generally in the triumph of the good, that Typhon finally submits to be disarmed, and Horus, the beneficent deity, takes in hand the government of the universe. The Count de Penneville's face expressed profound faith in the final triumph of Horus, the beneficent deity.

The ice was entirely broken when Madame Corneuil made her appearance. We may easily believe that she had taken great pains for this occasion with her toilet and the arrangement of her hair; her half-mourning was most charming. It must be granted that there are queens who strongly resemble ordinary people, so there are ordinary people who resemble queens, barring the crown and the king. That day Madame Corneuil was not merely a queen, she was a goddess from head to foot. She might have been described as Juno appearing from a cloud. Neither did she fail in her manner of entrance. On seeing her approach, the Marquis could not repress a thrill of emotion, and when he drew nearer to her to greet her with bowed head, he lost his self-command, which seldom happened to him, he stood confused, began several sentences

At these words she withdrew, not without without being able to finish them: it is said that kissing her for the second time.

At two o'clock precisely, Madame Véretz, seated in an ajoupa opposite the veranda of the chalet, awaits the Count de Penneville and Monsieur de Miraval; at two o'clock precisely the Marquis and the Count appeared on the hori

zon.

The presentation was made with proper formality, and soon conversation began. Madame Véretz was a woman of great tact in all difficult circumstances; the unexpected never disconcerted her; she knew how to receive an uncomfortable visitor as well as a disagreeable event. Monsieur de Miraval, however, gave her no occasion to practice that virtue. He was thoroughly courteous and gracious; he brought all the amiability and brilliancy of his past grandeur to bear on this occasion; he took as much pains as he formerly did for the sovereigns of the world who gave him audience. Where was the use of having been a diplomate if not to possess the art of talking a great deal without saying anything? He had words at his command, and, when it was necessary, a fluent eloquence, the art of "pouring honey over oil," as the Russian proverb has it. Everything went on well. Horace, who had greatly dreaded the interview, and who at first appeared constrained and disturbed, was soon over his anxiety, and felt his embarrassment at an end. It was part of his character to be quickly reassured. He was not only a born optimist, but he had gone too deeply into the

it was the first time in his life that such a mishap had happened to him. His disturbance was so great that Horace, who usually never noticed anything, could not help remarking it.

Monsieur de Miraval made a great effort, and was not long in recovering his confidence and all his ease of manner. After a few trifling remarks, he began to relate pleasantly several anecdotes of his diplomatic career, which he seasoned with graceful wit and a grain of salt.

As he told his little stories, he went on talking with himself. "There is no denying it, she is very beautiful; she is a superior woman, fit for a king. What eyes! what hair! what shoulders ! Can she be the daughter of such a mother, and that from that red hair comes all those beautiful, fair locks? There is no denying, her beauty irritates and exasperates me. If I were forty years younger, I would be one of her suitors. Really, she is superb. Can I find any fault with her? Yes, there is a restlessness in her eyes which I do not like. Her lips are rather thin-bah! that is only a foible. Heaven be thanked! there is no ink-spot on her finger-ends, but they are too tapering, too nervous, and look like hands ready to clutch. Her eyelids are too long-they can conceal a great deal. Her voice is well modulated, but metallic; still, if I were forty years younger—”

The Marquis went on telling stories. Madame Véretz was all ears, and smiled in the best possible grace. As for Madame Corneuil, she

did not desist from a somewhat disdainful gravity of bearing. She had come upon the scene with a certain part to play; she had got it into her head that she was to appear before an ill-disposed judge, who had come expressly to take her measure and to weigh her in the balance. So she armed herself with Olympian majesty and that insolence of beauty which tramples impertinence under foot, crushes the haughty, and transforms Actæons into deer. Although the Marquis's politeness was faultless and emphatic, and although he besought her to look favorably upon him, she remained firm and would not be disarmed. Horace listened to all with great satisfaction; he thought his uncle charming, and could hardly keep from embracing him. He also thought that Madame Corneuil never had been more beautiful, that the sunlight was brighter than ever, that it streamed down upon his happiness, that the air was full of perfume, and that everything in the world went on wonderfully. Now and then a slight shadow fell like a cloud before his eyes. In reading over that morning the fragments of Manetho, he stumbled upon a passage which seemed contradictory to his favorite argument, which was dear to him as life itself. At intervals he began to doubt whether it really was during the reign of Apepi that Joseph, son of Jacob, came into Egypt; then he reproached himself for his doubt, which came back to him the next moment. This contradiction grieved him greatly, for he had a great regard for Manetho. But when he looked at Madame Corneuil his soul was at rest again, and he fancied he could read in her beautiful eyes a proof that the Pharaoh who knew not Joseph must have been Sethos I., in which case the Pharaoh who did know him must have been the King Apepi. To be tenderly loved by a beautiful woman makes it easy to believe anything, and all things become possible - Manetho, Joseph, the King Apepi, and all the rest.

What was passing in the heart of the Marquis? To what conquering charm was he the prey? The fact was, he no longer resembled himself. He had made an excellent beginning, and Madame Véretz was delighted with his tales. Little by little his animation grew languid. This man, who was so great a master over his own thoughts, could no longer control them; this man, so great a master in conversation, really was seeking in vain for the proper words. He struggled for some time against this strange fascination which deprived him of his faculties, but it was all in vain. He no longer took part in the conversation, except in a few loose phrases, which were absolutely irrelevant, and soon fell into a deep reverie and the dullest silence.

"

neuil. I have quite overawed him; I have made him afraid of me."

And so, applauding herself for having silenced the batteries of the besieger and put out his fires, a smile of satisfied pride hovered around her lips. A moment after she rose to walk around the garden, and Horace hastened to follow her.

The Marquis remained alone with Madame Véretz. He followed the pair of lovers with his eyes for a little while, as they slowly withdrew and finally disappeared behind the shrubbery. The spell seemed then to be unloosed. Monsieur de Miraval regained his voice, and, turning toward Madame Véretz, he exclaimed dramatically: No, nothing has ever been created yet more beautiful than youth, more divine than love. My nephew is a fortunate fellow. I congratulate him aloud, but I keep my envy to myself."

Madame Véretz rewarded this ejaculation with a gracious smile which signified: “Good old fellow! we judged you wrongly. How can you serve us best?

"The more I see them together, Monsieur le Marquis," said she, "the more I am convinced that they were made for one another. Never were two characters better matched: they have the same likes and the same dislikes, the same elevated tone of mind, the same scorn of mediocre ideas and petty calculation, the same disregard of vulgar interests. They both live in paradise. Ah! Monsieur le Marquis, only a providential dispensation could have brought them together."

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Very providential," said the Marquis, but he added, in petto, "A manoeuvring mother is the surest of all providences." Then he resumed aloud: “After all, what is the aim of it? Happiness. My nephew is right to consider his affection only. He can have his paradise, as you call it, madame, and all the rest into the bargain; for Madame Corneuil-We will not speak of her beauty, which is incomparable, but it is impossible to see her or to hear her speak without recognizing her to be a most superior woman, the most suitable in the world to give a man good counsel, and to lead him onward, to push him forward."

"You certainly judge her correctly," answered Madame Véretz. "My daughter is a strange being; she is full of noble enthusiasm which she carries at times to exaltation, and yet she is thoroughly reasonable, very intelligent as regards the things of this world, and, at the same time, ice to her own interests and on fire for others."

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"Only one thing distresses me," said the Marquis to her. The story-teller advises all happy lovers to roam only to neighboring shores, and ours are going to bury their happiness in Memphis or in Thebes. It would be a crime to "My mother was right," said Madame Cor- take Madame Corneuil away from Paris."

"Reassure yourself," said she; "Paris will itive woman a full description of his château, have them back again."

66

You do not know my nephew: he has a horror of that perverse and frivolous city. He confided to me yesterday that he means to end his days in Egypt, and assured me that Madame Corneuil was as much in love as he was with the solitude and silence of the region of Thebaid. He appears very gentle, but there never was a person of more determined will." “Heaven help him!" said Madame Véretz, looking at the Marquis as if she would say, "My fine friend, there is no will which can hold against ours, and Paris can no more do without us than we without Paris."

"They have chosen the good part," continued Monsieur de Miraval with a deep sigh. "I have often laughed at my nephew, blaming him because he did not know how to enjoy life; now it is his turn to laugh at me, for I am reduced to envying his happiness. There comes an age when one regrets bitterly not having been able to make a home for one's self. But you must be astonished, madame, at my confidences."

which was doubtless well worth the trouble, only he seldom visited it. The minute information which he gave respecting his estates and their revenues was not of such a nature as to chill the interest which she was beginning to take in him.

During all this time, Madame Corneuil strolled through a path in the garden with Horace, who did not notice that her nerves were greatly excited and that she was somewhat ruffled. There were a great many things which the Count de Penneville never noticed.

"Heavens! what beautiful weather," said he to her; "what a beautiful sky, what a beautiful sun! Still it is not the sun of Egypt! when shall we see it again? Oh, thither, thither, let us go,' as says the song of Mignon. You must sing that song to me to-night; no one sings it like you. This park never seemed so green to me as now. There is no denying the beauty of green grass, although I can get along wonderfully well without it. I once knew a traveler who thought Greece horrible because there were so few trees. There are people who are wild on the subject of

"I am rather flattered by them, than aston- trees. Do you remember our first excursion to ished," answered she.

"I am devoured by ennui, I must acknowledge. I had determined to pass the remainder of my days in retirement and in quiet, but ennuz will yet force me out of my den. I shall plunge into active political life again. I have been urged to stand for the arrondissement where my château is situated, and have also been proposed for the senate. I might go still higher if I were married to a woman of sense, intelligent in the things of this world, in spite of her enthusiasms. Women are a great means of success in politics. Would that I had a wife! as the poet says: 'Have I passed the season of love? Ah! if my heart,' etc., etc. I can not remember the rest of it, but never mind. Lucky Horace! thrice happy! What a vast difference there is between living in Egypt with the beloved, and bustling about Paris in the whirl of politics without the beloved!"

Madame Véretz in truth thought the difference vast, but greatly to the advantage of the bustle and the whirl. She could not help thinking, It would be perfect if my future son-in-law only had the tastes and inclinations of his uncle; there would be nothing more to wish for."

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From that moment, the Marquis de Miraval became a most interesting being to her. She tried to reconcile him to his fate, and, as she had a genius for detail and for business, she asked him a great many questions about his electoral arrondissement and his chances of election. The Marquis, somewhat embarrassed, replied as best he could. He could not get out of it except by changing the subject, and so he gave the inquis

VOL. VIII.-2

Gizeh the vast bare plain, the wavy hills, the ochre-colored sand? You said, 'I could eat it!'

What a

"We met a long line of camels; I can see them now. The pyramids pierced the horizon, and they seemed white and sparkling. How they stood out against the sky! They seemed quivering. The air here never quivers. good breakfast we had in that chapel! You wore a tarbouch on your head, and it became you like a charm. When shall I see you in a tarbouch again? The turkey was somewhat lean, I remember, and I made a great blunder I let fall the jar which held our Nile-water. We laughed at it well, and had to drink our wine unmixed. After which we descended into the grotto, and I interpreted hieroglyphics to you for the first time. I shall never forget your delight at my telling you that a lute meant happiness, because the sign of happiness was the harmony of the soul. In the Chinese writings, happiness is represented by a handful of rice. After that, who could contest the immense superiority of soul in the genius of the Egyptians over the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire?”

At last he discovered that Madame Corneuil made no reply to him; he sought for an explanation, and soon found it.

"How did the Marquis de Miraval impress you?" asked he of her with an anxious voice. This time she answered.

"He is very distingué. He begins stories remarkably well, but finishes them poorly. Must I be sincere?"

tune fell between her and the paper. Heaven knows that in like cases every pains was taken to save her nerves, to cause her no interruption, such were the orders. During those hours when she was known to be within her sanctum, the most profound silence reigned everywhere. Madame Véretz saw to that. Every one spoke in a whisper and stepped softly; and when Jacquot, who did the errands, crossed the paved courtyard, he took great care to take off his sabots, lest he might be heard. This precaution on his part was the result of sad experience. Jacquot played the horn in his leisure moments. One morning when he took the liberty of playing, Madame Véretz, coming upon him unawares, gave him a vigorous box on the ear, saying to him: "Keep still, you little idiot! don't you know that she is meditating?" Jacquot rubbed his cheek, and took it as it was said. Everybody did the same. So from eight till noon Jacquot whispered to the cook, and the cook told the coachman, and the coachman told the hens in the yard, who repeated it to the sparrows, who repeated it to the swallows, and to all the winds of heaven, "Brothers, let us keep silence-she is meditating!"

When it struck noon, the door of the holy place opened softly, and, as before, Madame Véretz advanced on the tips of her toes, ask ing, "My dear beauty, may I be allowed to enter?"

Madame Corneuil scowled with her beautiful eyebrows, and poutingly placed her papers in the most elegant portfolio, and her portfolio in the depths of her rose-wood secretary, taking care to take out the key, for fear of robbers.

"Orders must have been given," said she, "not to leave me a moment in peace."

"I was obliged to go out this morning," answered Madame Véretz; "did Jacquot happen to take advantage of my absence?"

"Jacquot, or some one else, I do not know whom; but they made a great deal of noise, and moved about the furniture. Was it absolutely necessary for you to go out?"

"Absolutely. You complained yesterday that the fish was not fresh, and that Julia did not understand buying; so henceforth I shall do my own marketing.”

She did not add that she liked to go to market, which was the truth. Among people who rise from small beginnings, some resent their past, and strive to forget it, while it pleases others to recall it.

"What have you there?" exclaimed Madame Corneuil, seeing just then that her mother held a bit of writing in her hand.

"This, my dear, is a note in which Monsieur de Penneville begs me to inform you that his great-uncle, the Marquis de Miraval, arrived yesterday from Paris, and has expressed a desire to be introduced, and that he will bring him here at two o'clock exactly. You know he is a victim to the stroke of the clock."

"What prevented him from coming to tell us himself?"

"Apparently he feared disturbing you, and perhaps he did not care to disarrange his own plans. In all well-ordered lives the first rule is to work until noon."

Madame Corneuil grew impatient.

"Who may this great-uncle be? Horace never told me about him.”

"I can easily believe that. He never speaks of anything but you—or himself—or Egypt."

"But if I choose that he should talk to me about him!" answered Madame Corneuil haughtily. "Is that another epigram?"

"Do you think I could make epigrams against that dear, handsome fellow?" hastily answered Madame Véretz. "I already love him like a son."

Madame Corneuil seemed to have grown thoughtful.

"I had bad dreams last night," said she. “You laugh at my dreams, because you like to laugh at my expense. Now see: In coming from Paris, Monsieur de Miraval must have passed through Vichy. This Marquis is dangerous."

Dangerous!" exclaimed Madame Véretz; "what danger have you to fear?"

"You see Madame de Penneville has sent him here."

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Can you believe that Horace-ah! my poor goose, are you not sure of his heart?"

44

Is any one ever sure of a man's heart ? " answered she, feigning an anxiety which she was

"And during that time, then, there must be a far from feeling. fearful racket."

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"Perhaps not of any man's," said Madame Véretz, smiling; "but the heart of an Egyptologist is quite another thing, and never changes. As far as sentiment goes, Egyptology is the one unchangeable thing."

"I told you I had bad dreams, and that the Marquis is dangerous to us."

"Here is my reply," was her mother's answer, as she passed her a mirror in such a way as to oblige her to see herself in it.

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'No, I will not receive this great-uncle," began Hortense again, as she pushed aside the mirror; "you may receive him in my place. Do you think I am obliged to endure impertinences?" There you are!—you are putting things at their worst; you are getting excited, forgetting yourself, and rushing at conclusions.”

"I tell you once more, I am ill."

"My dear idol, one must never be ill except at the suitable moment; and in this case take care, or he will fancy you are afraid of him."

Madame Corneuil, on reflection, evidently was convinced that her mother was right, for she said to her:

"Since you wish me to submit to be so bored, so be it! Order my breakfast to be brought up, and send my maid to me.'

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"Nothing could be better," answered Madame Véretz. "Ah, my dear! I am not inflicting a bore upon you—it is a victory which I am preparing for you."

theology of Egypt not to know that in the human world, as in the divine, the struggle between the two principles ends generally in the triumph of the good, that Typhon finally submits to be disarmed, and Horus, the beneficent deity, takes in hand the government of the universe. The Count de Penneville's face expressed profound faith in the final triumph of Horus, the beneficent deity.

The ice was entirely broken when Madame Corneuil made her appearance. We may easily believe that she had taken great pains for this occasion with her toilet and the arrangement of her hair; her half-mourning was most charming. It must be granted that there are queens who strongly resemble ordinary people, so there are ordinary people who resemble queens, barring the crown and the king. That day Madame Corneuil was not merely a queen, she was a goddess from head to foot. She might have been described as Juno appearing from a cloud. Neither did she fail in her manner of entrance. On seeing her approach, the Marquis could not repress a thrill of emotion, and when he drew nearer to her to greet her with bowed head, he lost his self-command, which seldom happened to him, he stood confused, began several sentences

At these words she withdrew, not without without being able to finish them: it is said that kissing her for the second time.

At two o'clock precisely, Madame Véretz, seated in an ajoupa opposite the veranda of the chalet, awaits the Count de Penneville and Monsieur de Miraval; at two o'clock precisely the Marquis and the Count appeared on the hori

zon.

The presentation was made with proper formality, and soon conversation began. Madame Véretz was a woman of great tact in all difficult circumstances; the unexpected never disconcerted her; she knew how to receive an uncomfortable visitor as well as a disagreeable event. Monsieur de Miraval, however, gave her no occasion to practice that virtue. He was thoroughly courteous and gracious; he brought all the amiability and brilliancy of his past grandeur to bear on this occasion; he took as much pains as he formerly did for the sovereigns of the world who gave him audience. Where was the use of having been a diplomate if not to possess the art of talking a great deal without saying anything? He had words at his command, and, when it was necessary, a fluent eloquence, the art of "pouring honey over oil," as the Russian proverb has it. Everything went on well. Horace, who had greatly dreaded the interview, and who at first appeared constrained and disturbed, was soon over his anxiety, and felt his embarrassment at an end. It was part of his character to be quickly reassured. He was not only a born optimist, but he had gone too deeply into the

it was the first time in his life that such a mishap had happened to him. His disturbance was so great that Horace, who usually never noticed anything, could not help remarking it.

Monsieur de Miraval made a great effort, and was not long in recovering his confidence and all his ease of manner. After a few trifling remarks, he began to relate pleasantly several anecdotes of his diplomatic career, which he seasoned with graceful wit and a grain of salt.

As he told his little stories, he went on talking with himself. "There is no denying it, she is very beautiful; she is a superior woman, fit for a king. What eyes! what hair! what shoulders! Can she be the daughter of such a mother, and that from that red hair comes all those beautiful, fair locks? There is no denying, her beauty irritates and exasperates me. If I were forty years younger, I would be one of her suitors. Really, she is superb. Can I find any fault with her? Yes, there is a restlessness in her eyes which I do not like. Her lips are rather thin-bah! that is only a foible. Heaven be thanked! there is no ink-spot on her finger-ends, but they are too tapering, too nervous, and look like hands ready to clutch. Her eyelids are too long-they can conceal a great deal. Her voice is well modulated, but metallic; still, if I were forty years younger—”

The Marquis went on telling stories. Madame Véretz was all ears, and smiled in the best possible grace. As for Madame Corneuil, she

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