"And that delightful strain from Mozart that he played. Do you remember the choir of spirits in the 'Enchanted Flute?' It was so aerial, so light. What a pleasure for poor savages like us, who have never known anything of Mozart; it is like discovering a treasure of harmony." "And how touching his anecdote about the old age of Haydn. And what he told us of the association of the Moravian brethren in America. How much less misery, how much benefit to poor people if those ideas could be applied in our country!" "And, mother, did you notice that his eyes filled with tears when he spoke of the happiness which might be the portion of so many people who are now in want?" "Ah, my poor child, his is the noblest heart in the world." "Yes, mother, and how we ought to cherish it! Oh, we must love him so much, you see; yes, so very much that it will be impossible for him to leave us. He has no family; his best friend, Doctor Dufour, is our neighbour. Where could M. David find a better home than with us?" "Leave us!" exclaimed Marie, "leave us! why, it is he who gives us our strength, our faith, our confidence in the future. Is it possible he can abandon us now?" Then old Marguerite was obliged to interpose again. "For the love of God, madame, do go to bed; why, it is two o'clock in the morning," said the old servant. "You rose at six o'clock, and so did M. Frederick, and then so must work all day long! Besides, it is not good sense to sit up so late!" "Marguerite is right to scold us, my child," said Marie, smiling, and kissing her son on the forehead, "we are foolish to go to bed so late." And the next day, again Marguerite's recriminations cut short the conversations of the mother and son. * * * * * Two or three times Marie went to bed in a sweetly pensive mood. One evening, while Frederick was reading, his friend, thoughtful and sedate, his elbows on the table, was leaning over with his forehead on his hand; the light of the lamp, concentrated by the shade, shone brightly upon the noble and expressive face of David. Marie, a moment distracted from the reading, directed her gaze to the guardian of her son, and looked at him a long time. By degrees, the young woman felt her eyes grow moist, her beautiful bosom palpitate suddenly, while a delicate blush mounted her snowy brow. Just at this moment, David accidentally raised his eyes and met Marie's glance. The young woman immediately cast her eyes down, and blushed scarlet. Another time David was at the piano, accompanying Frederick and Marie, who were singing a duet; the young woman turned the page, just as David had the same intuition, and their hands met. At this electric contact, she trembled, her blood rushed toward her heart, and a cloud passed before her eyes. Notwithstanding these suggestive indications, the young mother slept that evening, pensive and dreamy, but full of calm and chaste serenity.