“If he is fool enough to prefer my sister to me, I——Away with such an absurd thought; it is impossible,” added Leopoldine, casting at the same time, a glance towards a mirror. In spite, however, of the very flattering opinion which she entertained of herself, a jealous inquietude had crept into her heart, and she examined more attentively her sister and M. de Berville when they returned together. The accident which had befallen Madame Rével was found to be less serious than it was at first thought to be; the limb was not broken; but through the satisfaction which she felt on this account, Stephanie exhibited in her countenance an expression of uneasiness which was not usual with her. The two sisters were at length alone together, when Leopoldine questioned Stephanie as to the cause of her apparent agitation. “I feel, I confess, a surprise, mixed with chagrin,” she replied. “M. de Berville, whom I so sincerely desired to see you accept as a husband—who appeared to come here only on your account——” “Well, sister!” “He has offered me his hand.” “I don't see any thing that there is so _very_ sad in all this,” responded Leopoldine, dissimulating, (for she was choaking with rage) “if M. de Berville likes _old maids_, it is not me, certainly, that he should choose.” “This it is, which is to me a matter of sadness,” continued Stephanie, “that rivalry, which was as little wished for as foreseen, will, I fear, alienate your affection from your sister, since you can already address me in words of such bitterness.” And the tears suddenly inundated her face. At sight of this, Leopoldine, more frivolous than insensible, convinced of her injustice, threw herself into the arms of Stephanie. “Pardon me, my kind sister, I see well that it is not your fault, but you must also agree that this event is humiliating to me; for, in truth, I was the first object of his vows: that man is inconstant and deceitful.”