"I beg pardon, mademoiselle; the man I love does return my love." "Then why are you sad so often? Perhaps it is because there are obstacles; you are not allowed to see each other, you are forbidden to love." "There are many obstacles, mademoiselle, in truth, and I meet him very rarely." "But he is in Paris, is he?" "Yes, mademoiselle." "And it was to join him that you came hither, I will warrant." "That is true, mademoiselle." "See what a power of divination I possess! But what does your lover do? Is he not free? Are you not able to marry?" Miretta lowered her eyes, her bosom heaved painfully, the pallor of deadly alarm overspread her brow. "Well! I see that I make you unhappy!" continued Valentine; "let us say no more about it. But still, you do see your lover sometimes, and then you are very happy. Oh! when that happens, I can detect it by your face; you are no longer the same girl that you were the day before; you smile and are almost gay. Because, as I believe it is as difficult to conceal one's happiness as one's suffering.--For my part, I have no love for the man they would like me to marry; no, indeed! I have not the slightest love for him, although he is a very well-favored young man." "Ah! do you know him, mademoiselle?" "Very little; I have seen him once or twice in society. He is the son of that old nobleman who was here last night--that tall, thin man with a severe expression, dressed all in black, in the style of the time of Henri IV, with a ruff that concealed his chin--the Marquis de Marvejols, in fact." "The Marquis de Marvejols! Is it his son whom you are expected to marry, mademoiselle?" "To be sure! why that exclamation?" "Because, last night I was in the main vestibule when that old gentleman arrived." "Well! what then?" "All your servants were there, and also a clerk from the office of your aunt's solicitor, who had come to give her some information about some business--a debt due her, or something else, I don't know what! But, as you may imagine, they told the little clerk--for he is a very small fellow--they told him that there was a grand reception going on, and that madame could not receive him." "What relation has all this to the old Marquis de Marvejols?" "Why, mademoiselle, when Monsieur Bahuchet--that is the little clerk's name--when he found that he could not be received, he put his papers in his pocket, saying: 'Very well; I will return to-morrow.'--But, instead of going away at once, as the guests were arriving, he remained a long while in the vestibule, talking with the major-domo and the servants. He is a great gossip, but he is amusing; for he made comments on everybody who arrived, and I assure you, mademoiselle, that sometimes he said some very comical things.--So, when this old gentleman arrived, and the servant announced Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols, the little clerk cried: