"As for M. Frager," continued Mme. Bricourt, sweetly, "I do not know him well enough to pass judgment on him. He ought to be something remarkable, to marry the daughter of such a distinguished man as Laviguerie. But, to tell the truth, I do not think he will turn out well. He has no business, you know; and, when a young man has no business--I am thinking of the way in which my admirable son passes his time! Why does Paul Frager live alone? Why will his family have nothing to do with him? The future alone will answer these questions, and let us hope that they will be favorably answered." She was interrupted by a carriage driving rapidly and noisily past. She leaned out of the window, bowing and smiling to some one, saying: "The pretty dear!" "The pretty dear" was none other than Odette, driving with her father to meet Germaine at the depot. Odette was beaming with joy at the thought of her darling sister, so soon to be with her. Her important interview with Paul had sobered her for awhile; but, now, she was only thinking of how happy she was. Her head was full of plans for the amusement of "darling Germaine," and she chattered on to her father, the picture of hope and happiness. Laviguerie said, "You are exquisitely lovely to-day, my child;" and, as she said gayly, "Just wait till you have seen Germaine--she will eclipse me and every body else!" the philosopher felt a jealous pang as he thought, "How she worships her!" Odette had hastened their starting to such an extent that they had now over half an hour to wait. Her father sat down quietly in the shade of the little white station, while Odette walked impatiently up and down the platform, asking the men around anxiously, if the train was not late--consulting her watch a dozen times at least, and comparing it with the big clock over the door. Finally, she said to herself, she would walk six times around the building, and had just accomplished the third circuit, when she heard the shrill whistle of the locomotive. She sprang to the edge of the platform, and looked eagerly down the track. She saw the train far away, skirting the shore of the Mediterranean, with its white plume of steam floating in the air. These three or four minutes seemed an eternity. Finally, the train stopped before her, a door opened, and a young lady stepped out, followed by her waiting-maid. The young traveler had no time to look around her before Odette was embracing her; they cried "Odette!" "Germaine!" and crying and laughing at the same time, they embraced again and again. M. Laviguerie looked on, more affected than he would have supposed possible. Germaine had changed so completely from the delicate, nervous child he remembered. Her black, abundant hair was drawn back from her broad, noble brow, where purity and dignity seemed to reign. She had grown tall, was very finely proportioned, and her large, gray eyes only added to the general impression of sincerity and sweet refinement.