"Just now," the young girl went on to say, with a voice broken by tears of joy, "I carried the letter to my uncle. He said to me: 'Antonine, my sight is very weak; read this letter to me, please.' Then I broke the seal of the envelope; I did not know why my heart beat with such violence, but it palpitated so I felt sick. Wait, it is beating now," added the young girl, putting her hand on her side, as if she would restrain the rapid pulsations which interrupted her narrative. Then she continued: "I then read the letter; there was--Oh, I have not forgotten a single word of it. * * * * * "'MONSIEUR PRESIDENT HUBERT:--I pray you, notwithstanding your condition of illness, to grant me at once, if it is possible, a moment of conversation upon a most urgent and important subject. "'Your affectionate, "'LEOPOLD MAXIMILIAN.' * * * * * "'But,' said my uncle, sitting up in bed,'this is the name of the prince who now occupies the Élysée, is it not?' 'I--I--think--it is, uncle,' I replied. 'What can he wish with me?' asked my uncle. 'I do not know,' said I, trembling and blushing, because I was telling a falsehood, and I reproached myself for not daring to confess my love for Frantz. Then my uncle said, 'It is impossible for me, although I am suffering, to refuse to receive the prince, but I cannot reply to his letter, I am too feeble. Take my place, Antonine, and write this,--recollect it well: "'MONSEIGNEUR:--My weak condition does not permit me to have the honour of replying to your Highness with my own hand, and I ask another to say to you, monseigneur, that I am at your service.' * * * * * "I am going to write this letter now for my uncle," said Antonine, approaching a desk in the parlour. "But, say, Sophie," added the young girl, impulsively, "ought I not to bless Madeleine and thank her on both knees? For if the prince intended to oppose my marriage with Frantz, he would not come to see my uncle,--do you think he would, Sophie? And but for Madeleine, the prince would never have consented to come, would he?" "Like you, my child, I say that we ought to bless our dear Madeleine," replied Madame Dutertre, pressing the hand of the marquise. "But really, I repeat it again and again, Madeleine, you have a talisman for getting all you want." "Alas, dear Sophie!" replied the marquise, smiling, "this talisman, if indeed I have one, only serves others; not myself." While the two friends conversed Antonine had seated herself at the desk, but, at the end of a few moments' vain effort, she was obliged to give up writing; her little hand trembled so violently that she could not hold her pen. "Let me take your place, my dear child," said Madeleine, who had not taken her eyes off the young girl. "I will write for you." "Excuse me, Madeleine," said Antonine, yielding her place to the marquise. "It is not my fault, this excitement is too much for me."