“You are not sorry I made you come, are you, Berthe?” I asked, as we went out together. “Sorry! I would not have missed it for the world.” PART II. LE PARTI. “_Au revoir, à demain soir!_” said Berthe, kissing a fair-haired young girl, and conducting her to the door. “What a sweet face! Whose is it?” inquired Madame de Beaucœur. “Hélène de Karodel’s. Her character is sweeter still than her face. I have fallen quite in love with her,” said Berthe. And she related the story of their meeting at the _réunion de Monceau_, and the acquaintance that had followed. “It is a fine old Breton name, and used to be a very wealthy one. How comes she to be earning her bread, poor child?” “The old story,” said Berthe. “General de Karodel mismanaged his property, took to speculation by way of mending matters, and of course lost everything. He died, leaving a widow and three children to do the best they could with his pension, about a thousand francs a year. Hélène is the eldest, and what she earns pays for the education of the second sister.” “But the rest of the family are well off. Why don’t they do something for them?” demanded Madame de Beaucœur. “Rich relations are not given much to helping poor ones,” replied Berthe; “besides, these Karodels are as proud as Lucifer, and benefits are pills that a proud spirit finds it difficult to swallow; it takes a good deal of love to gild them.” “Very true!” And dismissing Hélène de Karodel with a sigh, “_Chère amie_” said Madame de Beaucœur, “I am come to ask you to do me a service.”