"Bouquet, garland, crown, and I don't know what else," continued Clarisse, "Eve always has jasmine in some shape."

"For me," said Suzanne, "I would not, for anything on earth, show myself three times in succession with a branch or wreath of jasmine."

The word jasmine, repeated four or five times, made a young girl tremble as she entered, and, not knowing any of the young ladies, seat herself at a distance; but, as if drawn by the word which affected her so singularly, Louise de Mirefont took her place nearest to Clarisse.

Louise was nineteen; she did not yield in natural grace to Suzanne nor to Valerie; her color was equal in freshness to the charming Albertine's; Lucienne had not such brilliant black hair, Leonore an expression of gentleness not more sympathetic. A timidity acquired, perhaps, by a sudden trouble veiled the looks of the new rival who now disputed with all the palm of beauty; a lively carnation spread itself over her features, which had a faultless purity. With her blushes and her embarrassment was mingled a vague sentiment of sadness; but what physiognomist would have been sufficiently skilful to explain the impression which affected her?

Of all the merry young girls collected at the ball, Louise was the simplest attired. She was beautiful enough to carry off any costume; a simple white dress, a light, rose-colored ribbon around her waist, that was all. All her companions had either flowers or pearls in their hair; she alone had no other coiffure than her waving curls, which rolled round her white shoulders. Each young girl had some rarity in her toilette. Clarisse, for example, had admirable bracelets and ear-rings, Lucienne, had a valuable cameo, Suzanne was distinguished by a spencer of an original pattern, even Leonore by knots of ribbons of exquisite taste, Albertine by bands of coral interwoven in the tresses of her fair hair.

No borrowed ornament could have increased the value of Louise's charms, whom if one could not without hesitation discern as the prize of the concourse, at least as the most faithful lover of the Greek type the model of which she presented in her classic perfection.

At the moment she approached, Leonore had said, indulgently: "Four years! four winters!--without doubt Clarisse exaggerates."

"No, Miss Leonore, I do not exaggerate; I repeat that for four years Eve has worn only jasmine."

Clarisse alone could call up the memories of four years; she was the oldest of all her friends. Some of these had been only a few months out of the convent, others had made their entrance into society only the winter preceding. She was not even of the same age as Eve, who had come out much earlier than any of them.

Clarisse had just passed the age of twenty-five. Having dreamed of six or seven superb marriages, she had the grief of aspiring to a seventh dream, and this was why her indulgence, at all times mediocre enough, went decreasing in hope as hope deceived, or in inverse ratio to the square of her age, to help ourselves for once, by chance, by the algebraic style. Clarisse could have said, but she did not, that she had seen Eve de La Tour-d'Adam, crowned with roses, the first time she appeared at the house of the Comtesse de Peyrolles.

Four or five springs, at most, made a second crown of roses for the brow of that maiden, who conducted an old septuagenary whose ideas and decorations recounted the exploits of a generation almost extinct. Eve advanced on the arm of the Marquis de La Tour-d'Adam, who had not been seen for several years. Man of the world as he had been in his youth, and was no longer, the marquis reserved to himself to introduce her into society. {369} Eve was very young, but the weight of years was heavy on the old man. The hour was advanced because he wished it so.

Their entrance made a great sensation; Clarisse remembered that it made too much.

Fair, delicately pale, frail and slender as a wasp, the only and last heiress of the Lords de La Tour-d'Adam, Eve, the child yet unknown, attracted all eyes. Give life to one of those aerial vignettes to which the English sculptors deny nothing, unless it is a soul; render motion to those images of the saints which the simple and pious workmen sculpture and animate in some sort with their faith, for the front of our temples; spread an expression of angelic sweetness and infinite tenderness over the countenance of a virgin purer than the azure of the sky; around this creation of your least profane thought let there reign an atmosphere of generous sympathies, that hearts may be touched, that souls may he captive, that men and women shall be equally attracted by this undefined sentiment, commonly called of interest, that this interest shall extend to every harmonious gesture, to every movement, to every word of the fair young girl; take into account the veneration inspired by the presence of the old gentleman, her grandfather--and you will understand at once what was Eve, and the effect of her first appearance at Madame de Peyrolles'.

Four years had passed since then. Eve now had entered her nineteenth year. Had she grown old in one day, had she grown young again, or some slow suffering, unknown phenomenon, some mysterious illness, was it, that, without wasting the young girl, abruptly arrested her development, up to that time so precocious? But, such as she was seen at Madame de Peyrolles' four winters before, as such Eve reappeared in the same drawing-room; only Clarisse Dufresnois had said enough about it--the crown of roses was replaced by a branch of jasmine entwined in her golden hair.

And, indeed, a branch of jasmine was placed on the front of the girl's dress, when dressed for the ball, and, accompanied by Madame du Castellet, her governess, she presented herself to her grandfather, who awaited her in the west parlor of the mansion of La Tour-d'Adam and welcomed her with a tender smile.

Eve came forward raising to him her sweet blue eyes, and, in melodious accents:

"My father," she said, "I have obeyed you; you see I am ready; but why will you oblige me to leave you again alone for all one long evening?'

"Child, I shall not be alone; I shall think that my Eve is amusing herself, I shall see her as if I were there! Youth should have innocent distractions. Oh! thou hast nobly loved me with all thy heart, but the society of an old man like me does not suffice at thy age."

"God knows I would renounce this ball with happiness, in order to give you your evening reading."

"I do not doubt it, my child; but you have promised me that you will go; go then, amuse yourself with your companions; dance, frolic, receive the homage which is your due. I am not a miser who hides his treasure, I wish that my diamond should shine for all eyes; your triumphs are mine, and your gaiety is the joy of my life."

"My father, I am never gay except by your side."

The old man smiled, not without a little incredulity, but the young girl's clear eyes were fixed on him with a touching expression of veneration and filial love. Eve repeated with affecting candor that the watch by her grandfather's side was to her a thousand times preferable to the noisy pleasures of the world; she grew animated, and, drawing yet nearer, she said:

"When I have passed the evening with you, I return joyously to my room, my heart full of noble thoughts. Often you have recounted to us some incidents of your life, and I am proud of being your child; I wish for power to imitate your generous example; finally, I find an inexpressible charm in your recollections and in your narratives. If you have spoken to me of my father and my mother, whom I have never known, I am still happy; my melancholy is sweet; I represent to myself as my guardian angels those whom your words make me love more every day."

The Marquis de La Tour-d'Adam felt himself touched; the young girl's governess had seated herself. Eve added in a less firm tone:

"On the contrary, when I return from a ball, I feel an indefinable sentiment of void and weariness; I do not know what it is that I want, I am sad, discontented with myself."

"Childishness!" interrupted the old gentleman. "Off with us! A little thoughtlessness and folly, I insist upon it! One is discontented with oneself only when one has failed in some duty; you are good, submissive, pious, charitable."

Eve blushed slightly, and while her grandfather was continuing his eulogy she prepared him a cup of tea, drew the stool near, arranged the cushion on which he rested his head, then, going to the piano, she played an old battle air of which he was very fond.

Meanwhile the marquis addressed the governess.

"My cousin," he said (Madame du Castellet was a distant relative of the Tour-d'Adams), "combat these tendencies, I implore you; pleasures and distractions, they are the remedy! I do not understand why this ball should sadden our darling Eve, why meeting her friends and her partners should make her melancholy. Eve does not know how to be untruthful, she hides nothing from us; but she is ignorant herself why she suffers. Discover this secret, I implore you, that she may be happy."

"Eve's happiness is my only desire," replied the governess. "You know that I love her as my own daughter. I never contradict her; indeed, she never desires anything that is not praiseworthy. She plans to do good with an admirable perseverance and delicacy."

The old marquis at this moment recognized the martial air which Eve was playing for him; he was deeply affected:

"She forgets nothing," he murmured.

Then noticing the flowers the young girl wore:

"Always jasmine," he said to the governess.

"She forgets nothing," said Madame du Castellet, in her turn.

"It is then impossible to overcome the pride of those unfortunate Mirefonts?" replied the marquis.

"My nephew, Gaston, cannot get anything accepted," respondent the governess; "but we will save them in spite of themselves."

"Heaven preserve me," said the marquis immediately, "from blaming their susceptibility; unfortunately, the secret means which Eve has so long employed scarcely suffice; it is necessary to do more."

"Gaston will aid us, I imagine," replied the governess in a low voice; "but hush! my pupil will not pardon me if I betray her secrets."

Eve returned from the piano; the marquis and the governess exchanged a glance of prudent intelligence.

"Off with us, young lady, to the ball, to the ball, the carriage is waiting!" said the old gentleman gaily, kissing the young girl's forehead.

Madame du Castellet dragged off Eve; the marquis, left alone, thought tenderly of his dear grandchild, the bouquet of jasmine, the unfortunate Mirefont family, of all that Eve had said or done with her habitual grace, while the military march she had played still resounded in his heart.

"The noble child!" he murmured; "they counselled me to be severe; how could I be? I have been indulgent; I have repressed nothing, spoiled nothing; her generous nature has freely developed itself; she has made herself blessed even by those who do not know her. Happy, yes, happy, will he be who shall be her husband."

The few words exchanged between the marquis and Eve's governess have shown us that for some time, at least, the secret of one of the young girl's good actions had been revealed to her grandfather. The old gentleman would have thought little enough of the coiffures chosen by Eve, or of her taste for such or such a flower; but Madame du Castellet had been much surprised one day by her pupil's predilection for bouquets and wreaths of jasmine. Questions followed each other; Eve evaded them for a long time; the governess insisted. She blamed the girl's extravagance, which did not cease to expend considerable sums for the same flowers.

"I wish to know if this caprice has anything reasonable in it?" she said finally, with firmness, even at the risk of displeasing the young heiress.

Eve blushed; then in a suppliant tone--

"Be at least discreet," she said. "It is the matter of an honorable family suddenly fallen into extreme poverty, whose only resource is the sale of jasmine. People do not buy it, so it is that I buy so much."

"But still," said Madame du Castellet, "without doubt you know the name of the family."

"No, cousin. Fearing to wound worthy people, I have not asked it. Only my artificial-flower seller told me that this jasmine was the work of the only child of a poor knight of St. Louis, completely ruined by the last revolution, and struck with incurable infirmities. His wife can only take care of him and wait on him. I was much affected by the story, and above all by the courage shown by this young girl, who obtained a living for her father and mother by her work. I promised often to buy jasmine on condition that my name should never be mentioned; do not be surprised, cousin, that I keep my promise."

Madame du Castellet embraced Eve with fervor. But soon going to the source, she knew that the family suffering from so many misfortunes was that of the Mirefonts. The marquis was instructed. Various offers of assistance were made, but proudly refused.

Eve continued to adorn herself with jasmine and to make liberal presents of it to all her friends, which Clarisse Dufresnois pleasantly laughed at.

"Do you love jasmine?" she said, smiling. "Apply to Eve. For a lottery, a vase or a crown of jasmine; for a present, jasmine; for a head-dress, jasmine. Madeline, who has penetrated into the delicious boudoir of Mademoiselle de La Tour-d'Adam, saw only jasmine on every side. Has she not given some to you also?"

"Eve has given me a charming bunch," said Leonore. "It was a master-piece of its kind; a flower was never more perfectly imitated." Nobody listened to Leonore.

"Jasmine is, then, Eve's adoration?" said Albertine.

"Perhaps," suggested Suzanne, "it is the emblem of a deep sentiment, some memory."

"In any case, it is a passion, a mania."

"I do not know what to imagine," said Leonore; "but I would rather believe it a work of charity."

"You hear Leonore, young ladies," cried Clarisse; "would it still be wicked to find this abuse of jasmine monotonous?"

Louise de Mirefont had started several times, for she was the unknown artist whose filial devotion created the bouquets and wreaths which Eve had not ceased to buy.

For the second time in her life Louise penetrated into the drawing-room of the Countess de Peyrolles, where she had been presented the {372} preceding winter by Mlle. de Rouvray, an old friend of her mother, and companion to the Countess. At the reiterated requests of Mlle. de Rouvray, Louise's parents consented that their daughter should go among the society in which her birth and education called her to live, had not her entire want of fortune kept her away.

At the time of that single party, which occupied a large place in the young girl's memory, she had remarked one of her masterpieces over the brow of Eve de La Tour-d'Adam. She had blushed, not without an innocent joy.

How different was her feeling now! Every mocking shaft of Clarisse wounded her, the smiles of the other girls put her to torture; and when Leonore, in her indulgent observations, which had consoled her a little, innocently pronounced the word charity, she grew pale and felt humbled. Pride brought to her eyes two tears, which vexation dried on her eyelashes.

"Mlle. de La Tour-d'Adam has done me an act of charity," she thought with a sort of wrath. "We have a disguised alms, and M. Gaston du Castellet has failed in all his promises."

Such were, we are obliged to avow it, Louise de Mirefont's first thoughts; pride rendered her unjust and ungrateful. Alas! as we have been told many times, first thoughts in our weak nature are not always the best. An angry suspicion, moreover, augmented the girl's indignation.

The nephew of Eve's governess, Gaston du Castellet, introduced into the family of Mirefont by Mlle. de Rouvray, had he, in an excess of zeal, revealed the secret of a distress courageously concealed for more than four years? Gaston was, himself, in a position of fortune more than mediocre, he lived honorably, but in a very modest office. He had been received with a noble simplicity; his tact, his delicacy, rendered him worthy of such a reception, and he had also conquered the good graces of M. and Mme, de Mirefont.

Louise, during her long is hours of work, often surprised herself thinking of the amiable qualities, the distinction, the benevolence, of Gaston du Castellet. While with a light hand she cut out or adjusted the green leaves or white flowers on their stem, she could not forbid herself to dream of the prudent attentions which Gaston showed her. Together with her fairy fingers, her imagination, or rather her heart, built a frail edifice of green leaves, hope, and white flowers, like the innocence of her love. A word, a glance, a smile of Gaston's, some mark of solicitude for her venerable parents, a generous word pronounced with feeling, received with eagerness, plunged her in long and sweet reveries. Her floral task was generally finished before her dream.

"He wished to associate his efforts with mine to comfort my parents' old age! With what eagerness he assisted my mother!" thought Louise, trembling with emotion. "'Why can I not always replace you thus?' said he. 'My presence will permit you to continue your pious work.' I succeeded in finishing that evening the crown of jasmine for which my employer waited so impatiently. And on Sunday, what could be greater than Gaston's sincere goodness toward my father while my mother and I had gone to pray for him? When we returned our prayers seemed to have been heard: he suffered less, and attributed the amelioration of his state to Gaston's cares, cordial gaiety, and conversation. Heavens! what were they talking of in our absence?"

And Louise's mind lost itself in sweet and charming suppositions. Add to this, that a year before Gaston had met Louise at a ball at Madame de Peyrolles'; he had noticed her there; and a few days afterward was presented to her parents by their old friend Mlle. de Rouvray. Gaston was the only young man admitted to their intimacy. Six months had not rolled away before he occupied a room in the same house with Louise.

Louise believed herself loved, and did not fear to speak without disguise of the extreme trouble of her family. The young man had already ventured various offers of assistance, he returned to the charge; H. and Mme. de Mirefont constantly with a grateful dignity refused them. Louise, whose delicious work was selling better and better, positively forbade him to attempt any officious proceeding. Gaston promised to make none, and very sincerely kept his word.

"But Gaston was the nephew of Eve de La Tour-d'Adam's governess. As Clarisse Dufresnois said, Eve bought jasmine with devotion; according to Leonore, it was without doubt from charity she did so. Well, then I had Gaston broken his promise? his direct offers being refused, had he employed indirect means? might he not be, finally, Eve de La Tour-d'Adam's agent, her associate, her agent in good works?"

Louise loved Gaston. And you will pardon her injustice, her ingratitude, her jealousy; for her second thought was a burst of repentance; she reproached herself for her pride, she was ashamed of herself for doubting Gaston, and, more than all, for being ungrateful to her benefactress.

Eve entered; she entered crowned with jasmine.

A tear--but this was a tear of gratitude--bathed Louise's eyelashes, and slowly descended down her burning cheeks. Her heart was already refreshed. She no longer heard Clarisse's whispers, she did not see the mocking smiles of Valerie, Albertine, and their companions; she did not even perceive that several young men were coming toward her, and asking her hand for a contra-dance; Eve had entered--she saw only Eve.

"Oh! she is an angel! she murmured rapturously.

"You say truly, Miss Louise, she is an angel!" replied Gaston, taking her hand.

Louise raised her head, dried her eyes, and permitted herself to be carried off by her attentive cavalier, who had observed all, heard all, and understood all, from the moment she had taken her place in the circle of girls.

Eve, conducted by her partner, passed near them, and turning:

"Gaston," she said in a tone of affectionate familiarity, "will you be our vis-â-vis?"

The young girls found themselves in each other's presence, their looks met; Louise's ardent gratitude suddenly aroused Eva de La Tour-d'Adam's sympathy.

"What a charming young girl! Do you know her, sir?"

"No, Miss Eve," answered Eve's partner, and his reply was not finished without the compliment called forth by a natural term of comparison, but the triumphant gentleman expended his eloquence for nothing.

"Does she know me?" said Louise to Gaston; "how she looks at me!"

"Eve does not know who you are; she will doubtless ask me your name; well, in telling it, I shall not relate any of your family secrets."

"Oh! so much the better!" exclaimed Louise.

"Just now you were blushing and turning pale, I heard, I noticed--"

Louise lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

"You were wrong," continued Gaston. "The only indiscretion committed has been by your employer, the flower-merchant. Eve is interested in you, she loves you without knowing your name. Her sincere solicitude goes back already for four years; it is only one, Louise, since I had the happiness of first seeing you. It was here. The next day Mlle, de Rouvray received a visit from me, and a few days afterward your parents kindly admitted me to their house."

An expression of happiness lighted Louise's delicate features.

"Then, just now," she said after a moment's interruption, "you divined my thoughts?"

"I heard Miss Clarisse Dufresnois. I suffered as you suffered. I hastened to justify myself to you."

"Oh, Gaston, how much better is your beautiful cousin than I!"

They now passed in the contra-dance; Eve's hand was not slow in taking Louise's; the two girls shivered at once.

Eve must have seemed singularly absent to her partner; she did not cease to watch Louise and Gaston, she was troubled, and was conscious of a strange uneasiness.

"Why this extreme emotion?" she asked herself; "oh! how my heart beats! I tremble, I suffer, my eyes are growing dim! What is the matter with me? Who is this young girl, and what is Gaston saying to her? They pronounced my name, I believe!"

Gaston was talking enthusiastically to Louise.

"Eve is not of this earth!" he said. "She is a celestial being whom I feel myself disposed to invoke on my knees; the respect with which she inspires me prevents me from seeing even her beauty. I venerate her, but you, Louise, you I love!"

Louise started.

"Oh! do not be vexed by this avowal; I am permitted to make it. During your absence, on Sunday, M. de Mirefont yielded to my request. My happiness, Louise, depends on you alone."

The young girl did not succeed in dissembling her joy, her smiles crowned Gaston's wishes; he continued in a softened voice:

"Oh! it was not without trouble that I triumphed, dear Louise. For a long time your father rejected me on account of his deplorable position; he would not consent, he said, that I should bind my future to the sad destinies of his family. I spoke of my love, he replied by reciting his misfortunes. Permit, I said to him, a son to diminish by his zeal your Louise's task. Would you repulse me if fortune favored you? or do you find me unworthy to share your lot? Her filial virtues even more than her charms have captivated me. If she were destined to opulence like Mlle, de La Tour-d'Adam, for example, I should be insane to dare to aspire to her hand. But your Louise is the companion necessary for a poor, hard-working man like me. She is courageous and devoted. I came to supplicate you to accept my devotion and my courage. Finally, overcome by my insistance, he held out his hand to me; I bathed it with my tears; then, opening his arms: 'Louise shall pronounce,' he said. With what impatience I waited for you that evening! Your mother by this time should be aware of my application, and to-morrow, if you consent, it shall not be simply as a friend, but as your fiancé that I shall enter under your parent's roof."

"Gaston--my fiancé," murmured Louise. "O God! I am too happy."

Eve also was near succumbing under a strange emotion; but by a supreme effort she succeeded in conquering it; but she was so pale she might have been taken for an alabaster statue. She was faint when she seated herself at some distance behind Mme. du Castellet and Mlle. Rouvray, who, retired to one side apart, were talking in a low voice but with animation.

Gaston's aunt and the countesses companion, drawn together by the similarity of their positions, made part of that commendable variety of aristocracy which we are permitted to call the poor of the great world. Resigned, free from envy, devoted, body and soul, to the families in which even their office increased the consideration and the regard which they merited, such persons are always justly respected. Their presence honors the houses which welcome them. They lived in the highest sphere with an admirable abnegation; the firmness of their principles equalled the amiability of their character: they had espoused the interests which exclusively occupied them, and were slaves to their duties.

Eve, still trembling, continued to watch Gaston and Louise, at the same time that, as if her nervous excitement had given her the faculty of hearing the feeblest sounds, she did not lose a word of the conversation of the two old friends.

"You cannot believe how much this marriage contents me," said Madame du Castellet, "I have always been afraid that my nephew was taken with Eve. Eve is so beautiful, so tender, so generous: one cannot know her without loving her. Gaston already loved her like a brother; they saw each other continually in spite of all my skill. I did well, the old marquis did not even suspect the danger. It would have been imprudent to have hinted the possibility; I have lived on thorns for three or four years. Eve and Gaston have known each other from childhood; a formidable friendliness reigned between them; Eve was full of sisterly attentions; I trembled for my poor nephew."

"It is certain that Mlle. de La Tour-d'Adam, with her name and her immense fortune, can only make a grand marriage," said Mlle, de Rouvray. "We can doubly felicitate ourselves on the success of our effort. The old Chevalier de Mirefont was ten years younger this evening, when he announced to me the regular request made by Gaston."

"It is scarcely any time since I said to the marquis how much I relied on my nephew, but I did not know it was so advanced."

"It is a settled thing," said Mlle. de Rouvray, smiling, for Gaston and Louise had been constantly observed by the two old friends.

"My nephew will soon be advanced," said Madame du Castellet, "he will not lack a future, and moreover, he will not refuse the advantages of which our good cousin will assure him by marriage contract. The Mirefont family will soon find themselves in ease."

"Louise is worthy of this good fortune," said Mademoiselle de Rouvray.

"When I shall be permitted to tell Eve that her cousin is to marry her interesting protégé, oh! I am sure she will be transported with joy."

Eve, at these words, thoroughly understood. Detaching from her headdress a little branch of flowers, she contemplated it a moment. Then she regarded Louise and Gaston, seated by each other, wrapped in their happiness, oblivious of the world around them.

"How happy they are!" she thought

The ball was very animated, Albertine, Valerie, and Lucienne had abandoned themselves to the gaiety of their age, but Clarisse, who observed with secret envy sometimes Gaston and Louise, sometimes Eve, pensive, refusing ten invitations,--Clarisse cried out all at once:

"Mademoiselle de La Tour-d'Adam is ill."

The musicians stopped playing. Gaston rushed to his cousin. Louise was the first to take in hers Eve's ice-cold hands; she could not refrain from pressing them to her lips.

Eve soon opened her eyes, saw Louise on her knees, Gaston at her side, smiled on them with angelic sweetness, and addressing herself to the young girl:

"You do not know me," she said, "but I wish you to be my friend. You will come to see me, will you not?"

The little branch of jasmine which Eve had taken from her own forehead remained in Louise's hands. Madame du Castellet, aided by her nephew, carried away Eve de la Tour-d'Adam.

A few minutes after Louise was conducted home.

Clarisse Dufresnois did not fail to attribute Eve's fainting to the desire of appearing interesting; this was at least the version which she gave to the young ladies Suzanne, Valerie, Lucienne, and Albertine, but the supposition which she expressed to the Vicomte de la Perlière, the object of her seventh matrimonial dream, was less inoffensive.

"Mademoiselle de La Tour-d'Adam," said she, "was taken ill of jealousy and vexation, on remarking her cousin's attention to Mlle, de Rouvray's protégé. "

She enlarged on this theme with so much wit, that the Vicomte de la Perlière, a man of sense who did not lack heart, forgot at the end of the winter to propose to her. The autumn following he asked and obtained Leonore's hand, which did not prevent Clarisse from being more witty than ever.

II.

Eve passed a frightful night, a prey to the delirium of fever; the doctors, forced to reassure the old marquis and the governess, did not conceal from Gaston that his cousin's case presented very alarming symptoms. Gaston was uneasy, Louise shared his fears, but their betrothal took place notwithstanding; the promise already made by M. de Mirefont was confirmed in the family, but on account of Eve's illness Madame du Castellet's absence was excused.

In the Castle de La Tour-d'Adam reigned a profound sadness.

Eve had recovered her ordinary calm and serenity, but her weakness and pallor were extreme; the old marquis was conducted to her room.

"Eve, my dear child, when I think of all you said to me before going to the ball, I reproach myself bitterly for having forced you to go."

"Do not regret it, grandfather, for I am delighted to have seen the young girl who is going to marry my cousin Gaston. I wish her to be my best friend."

"My child," said the marquis again, "is anything lacking that you wish? Have confidence in me."

"What can I lack? you refuse me nothing."

"Doubtless, and for all," suggested the old man, with a real timidity, "you fear to unveil for me the state of your heart! I hesitate to say what I think, my dear daughter, but if you have a secret inclination--"

Eve shuddered, and lowered her large eyes.

"Know well, at least, that I shall never be an obstacle to your happiness; my Eve would not know how to make an unworthy choice."

The young girl bent her head and remained silent. Mme. du Castellet observed her sadly.

"Eve," said she, "you answer nothing?"

"What can I answer?" murmured the heiress, "I ask myself," she said with feeling. "My good father," she said again, "words are wanting to express to you my gratitude and my tenderness."

"Then from what does she suffer?" the marquis asked himself in despair.

As a flower scorched by the sun, Eve languished; the fever disappeared, but her strength did not return. Her only pleasure was to put on, one after another, the freshest of her jasmine wreaths.

The doctors understood nothing of her illness; the most skilful of all interrogated the governess.

"I fear that this young girl is struck by a moral hurt; love, when it is opposed, sometimes presents analogous symptoms."

"We have been beforehand with your question, doctor; Eve knows that her choice would be approved; she made no response."

"Has she pronounced any name in her delirium?"

"None; she spoke only of the good works which constantly occupied her."

Madame du Castellet had found that Eve knew the whole history of Louise's filial devotion.

"Madame," replied the physician, "I persist in believing that Mlle, de La Tour-d'Adam conceals her secret from you. A false shame, without doubt, restrains her; send for her confessor, and have him, if possible, oblige her to tell you the truth."

When the doctor had gone, Madame du Castellet burst into tears. Eve was given up by science, because they {377} absolutely would have it that her illness had a mysterious origin.

The confessor was called, although the governess hoped nothing from his intervention. An emotion of profound piety was painted on the features of the man of God when he came out of the invalid's chamber, but Eve, calm and with pious recollection, was praying with her eyes raised to heaven. The young girl made no confidence to Mme. du Castellet, only several hours later--

"Cousin," she said, "Mlle. Louise de Mirefont and Gaston are slow in coming to see me."

It was not the first time that Eve had expressed the same desire; the governess ordered the carriage in order to go for Mlle. de Mirefont.

"Louise, generous Louise," murmured Eve, "I would that my soul could be blended with yours!"

Her heart beat violently as she thought of Gaston's happiness; Eve did not account to herself for her poignant emotion, but she prayed that God would permit her to live for her noble grandfather.

"My loss would be too cruel for him," she murmured, weeping.

Then she interrogated herself with a simple severity:

"Would I then be culpable for not speaking of that of which I am myself ignorant?"

Her conscience responded by a firm resolution not to carry trouble to the hearts of all those who cherished her. "My duty, I feel, is to rejoice at the happiness of Gaston and of Louise. Do I deceive myself? My God! enlighten me, guide me!"

Eve was kneeling; the Marquis de La Tour-d'Adam, assisted by his valet, entered, and in a reproachful tone--

"Why do you fatigue yourself thus?" said he; "Eve, I implore thee, be careful of thy strength, if only out of pity for me."

Eve arose with difficulty.

"Forgive me," she said with a sweet smile, "I will not kneel again until I am cured."

Then she sat by her grandfather's side. The marquis, frightened at her mortal pallor, contemplated her with anguish.

"I saw her father perish in the flower of his age," he thought; "her mother a few months after died in giving her life; she was an orphan from her cradle. All my affections are concentrated in her; she has never given me occasion for the least pain. Alas! I suffer to-day for all the happiness she has given me."

"Do not distress yourself, my father," said Eve, who surprised a tear in the old man's dry eyes; "I have asked of God to let me remain to console the rest of your days; my prayer has been heard, it will be granted. Oh, for pity, do not cry more."

The marquis took her hand and pressed it against his heart.

"My father," said Eve after several moments of silence, "our cousin has gone for Gaston and his fiancée; my father, I have a request to make of you."

"Tell it, tell it," said the old man ardently.

Eve bent, and said in a trembling voice:

"They are both of them generous and devoted; both of them have suffered much: make them rich, I implore you, lest your wealth should pass into avaricious hands."

"Oh! my God! you expect, then, to die! Eve, my darling daughter, is this your secret?"

"No! I do not wish to die! no! I wish to live for you!"

"But I am old, very old!" the marquis replied, with hesitation, "and--after me--"

"After you whom shall I love?" said Eve in a melodious voice. "Father, I implore you, make Gaston and Louise's future sure, and you will have crowned all my wishes."

Eve had scarcely finished when Mme. du Castellet entered; Louise and Gaston followed her. The two lovers succeeded in wiping away their tears, but their emotion was {378} redoubled when they saw themselves between the young girl and her grandfather.

"Come to me," said Eve, "come, Louise! Do you not know that I loved you before I knew you? See, all that surrounds me is your work. What would I not give to have made, like you, one of these bouquets of jasmine!

"Mademoiselle," murmured Louise, "I have known you and have loved you only for a few days; but my gratitude and my affection for you are boundless."

"Place them on Gaston: he is dear to me as a brother; and you, Louise, call me henceforth your sister."

She held her one hand, with the other she drew Gaston forward; then, addressing the marquis:

"Father," she said, "see them before you; bless them, I pray you."

The old gentleman, weeping, extended his hands, then with a voice choked with sobs:

"Eve, my beloved child! Eve, thou wishest then to die?"

The young girl blushed slightly, a ray of sunlight which played through the curtains crowned her with a luminous halo; she had risen, her ethereal figure mingled with the white flowers which adorned her room.

Gaston said in a low voice to Louise:

"You see plainly, my friend, that she is not of the earth."

They bent reverently; but Eve extended her arms: Louise found herself pressed against her heart.

The marquis, seeing Eve so radiant, renewed his hope:

"She is saved!" he said to Madame du Castellet. "The presence of these young lovers has done her good. Have them come often, I pray you. But I should leave them together. Adieu, my children, adieu!"

He was carried back to the great hall. However, the governess trembled; she saw at last the fatal truth. The heiress's great blue eyes were fixed on hers; the old lady's trouble increased. Eve put her finger on her lips, and drawing her to one side:

"Why are you still distressed, my good cousin," she said to her; "do you not see how happy I am in their happiness?"

Gaston's aunt retired heart-broken, doubtful of her suppositions, not daring to hope for the young girl's recovery.

Eve was seated between the two lovers:

"I demand a part in your joy, my friends, and I wish that my memory may always live with you."

Then she recounted with simplicity the history of her four last years. The praises which she gave to Louise's filial piety penetrated the hearts of the two betrothed, who wished to prostrate themselves before her, her words had so much purity, sweetness, and unction. Louise reproached herself, as if it were a sacrilege, for the thought of pride which she had felt at the ball. Gaston was under an indefinable impression of tenderness and of gratitude. Eve addressed him with noble and tender encouragement. Eve, with a pious ardor, made wishes for the felicity of their union; finally, when they were retiring she divided between them a branch of jasmine.

"Preserve this," she said, "in memory of me."

The sacrifice was accomplished. When they had gone, Eve sighed, prayed, and felt herself weaker. She had expended in this interview the little strength which remained to her.

A despairing cry soon resounded through the house where the young girl's inexhaustible goodness had won all hearts.

"Mademoiselle is dying! Mademoiselle is going to die!"

The Marquis de La Tour-d'Adam, fulfilling his promise, went to add a disposition to his will, in case the heiress should not attain her majority. The pen fell from his hand, the chill of death ran through his veins:

"Eve! Eve! who will take me to her?"

But Eve entered the room, for she, on her side, had prayed the governess to have her conducted there.

The old man saw on her features the certain mark of death, and death struck him. He murmured for the last time the name of Eve, then fell back, cold, in his arm-chair.

However, Eve lived an entire day after her grandfather.

Her agony was slow and gentle. She asked for jasmine, her couch was covered with white flowers, bathed in her tears whose filial love had made them.

"May Louise be your daughter," said Eve to Madame du Castellet "Louise will replace me with you."

Then, addressing Louise:

"My sister, make your husband happy. Love the poor and pray with them for my parents, my grandfather, and myself. God be praised," she murmured finally, "my father's father has preceded me, I go to join him. Adieu, Gaston! my brother, adieu!"

Her voice failed, her heart ceased to beat, heaven counted one angel more.

Madame du Castellet, Gaston, and Louise passed the night in prayers by the two beds of death. Finally, the same hearse conducted to the same tomb Adam, Marquis de La Tour-d'Adam, last of the name, and his grandchild Eve, the last branch of an illustrious stock.

A sword which had never been drawn except in a just and holy cause decorated the aged man's coffin, but that of the child cut down at the threshold of life was covered with the white flowers which she had so piously loved.

To-day the mansion of the Tour-d'Adams is inhabited by M. and Mme. de Mirefont, Mme. du Castellet, her nephew Gaston, and her niece, Louise.

A room hung with crowns and wreaths of artificial jasmine serves as the family oratory.

No one ever penetrates there except with recollection.

The servants call it the saints' chamber.

It is that whence rose toward heaven, as an agreeable perfume to God, the soul of a maiden dying in all the purity of first innocence; dead without knowing there existed a forbidden fruit; dead because she loved with that celestial love which belongs only to the angels in paradise.