She took his hand, and kissing it with a passionate impulse: “Oh, the dearest, the most generous of men!” “Do not let us talk of that,” he said with evident annoyance. “In your mother’s condition of mental prostration it would kill her to be left alone; she needs you, and I promise to help you to soften her grief. We will make her comfortable; and although my nature is not very tender, I will try to replace him from whom she is separated. It will be a happiness to her to see you happy.” For a long time he enlarged upon what he wished, feeling a sentiment of satisfaction in talking of what he would do for Madame Cormier, in whom at this time he saw the mother of Florentin more than that of Phillis. “Do you think you can make her forget?” he asked from time to time. “Forget? No. Neither she nor I can ever forget; but it is certain our sorrow will be drowned in our happiness, and this happiness we shall owe to you. Oh, how you will be adored, respected, blessed!” Adored, respected! He repeated these words to himself. One could, then, be happy by making others happy. He had had so little opportunity until this time to do for others, that this was in some sort the revelation of a sentiment that he was astonished to feel, but which, for being new, was only the sweeter to him. He wished to give himself the satisfaction of tasting all the sweetness. “Where are you going this morning?” he asked. “I return to the school to help my pupils prepare their compositions for the prize.” “Very well; while you are at the school this morning, I will go to see your mother. The process of asking in marriage that we make use of is perhaps original, and conforms to the laws of nature, if nature admits marriage, which I ignore; but it certainly is not the way of those of the world. And now I must address this request to your mother.” “What joy you will give her!” “I hope so.” “I should like to be there to enjoy her happiness. Mamma has a mania for marriage; she spends her time marrying the people she knows or those she does not know. And she has felt convinced that I should die in the yellow skin of an old maid. At last, this evening she will have the happiness of announcing to me your visit and your request. But do not make this visit until the afternoon, because then our cousin will be gone.” Saniel spent his morning in looking for apartments, and found one in a quarter of the Invalides, which he engaged. It was nearly one o’clock when he reached Madame Cormier’s. As usual, when he called, she looked at him with anxious curiosity, thinking of Florentin. “It is not of him that I wish to speak to you to-day,” he said, without pronouncing any name, which was unnecessary. “It is of Mademoiselle Phillis--” “Do you find her ill?” Madame Cormier said, who thought only of misfortune. “Not at all. It is of her and of myself that I wish to speak. Do not be uneasy. I hope that what I am going to say will not be a cause of sadness to you.”