It was not to be imagined that a young girl, perfectly conscious of her beauty, with a great deal of vanity and an immensity of ambition, could fail to be delighted at the magnificent presents with which her rich old lover had that day loaded her. She spread them upon the counterpane of her bed, and when she was tired of admiring them, she covered herself with her treasures, hung the flashing necklace about her neck, and clasped her little wrists in the massive bracelets, stuck a pin here and a brooch there, and covered her fingers with sparkling jewels; and though she had no looking-glass larger than a playing-card in which to reflect her splendor, she yet could judge in her own mind very satisfactorily of the effect. Then, after she had floated about her room, and courtesied, and waved her hands to her heart's content, she again strewed the bed with these delightful, intoxicating jewels, which flashed actual fascination upon her gaze. At that moment her gratitude effervesced, and she almost felt that, provided she were never to behold his face again, she could--_not love_, but _like_ Monsieur Le Prun very well; she half relented, she almost forgave him; she would have received with good-will, with thanks, and praises, anything and everything he pleased to give her, except his company. Meanwhile the old Visconte, somewhat civilized and modernized by recent restorations, was walking slowly to and fro in the little bowling-green, side by side with Blassemare. "Yes," he said, "with confidence I give my child into his hands. It is a great trust, Blassemare; but he is gifted with those qualities, which, more than wealth, conduce to married happiness. I confide in him a great trust, but I feel I risk no sacrifice." A comic smile, which he could not suppress, illuminated the dark features of Blassemare, and he looked away as if studying the landscape until it subsided. "He is the most disinterested and generous of men," resumed the old gentleman. "_Ma foi_, so he is," rejoined his companion; "but Mademoiselle de Charrebourg happened to be precisely the person he needed; birth, beauty, simplicity--a rare alliance. You underrate the merits of Mademoiselle de Charrebourg. He makes no such presents to the Sisters of Charity." "Pardon me, sir, I know her merits well; she is indeed a dutiful and dear child." And the Visconte's eyes filled with moisture, for his heart was softened by her prosperity, involving, as it did, his own. "And will make one of the handsomest as she will, no doubt, one of the most loving wives in France," said Blassemare, gravely. "And he will make, or I am no prophet, an admirable husband," resumed the Visconte; "he has so much good feeling and so much----" "So much money," suggested Blassemare, who was charmed at the Visconte's little hypocrisy; "ay, by my faith, that he has; and as to that little bit of scandal, those mysterious reports, you know," he added, with a malicious simplicity.