“I should scorn to watch the man I married. I should want to have every confidence in him.” “Then, Mademoiselle, you would need to kill him immediately after the ceremony,” counselled Marsac. Then the conversation turned on Uncle Maurice. Marsac and Fontaine had a number of ready-made anecdotes respecting the old man and his honourable career in New York, which they told with gravity and effect. Marsac declared that he felt like going in mourning himself, so grateful was he for what Uncle Maurice had done for Fontaine; while Fontaine, with perfect truth, said that he thought more of his Uncle Maurice than of any relative he had in the world. Every moment passed in one another’s society drew these four young hearts closer together,--Fontaine and Claire willingly, and Marsac and Delphine loudly protesting and abusing the emotions which, just born in their hearts, yet grew like Jonah’s gourd. At last, however, this accidental half-hour--which brought so much happiness to Fontaine and Claire, and turned the world topsy-turvy for Marsac and Delphine--came to an end. The carriage was reported, the Duval party rose to go, after the two young men had reiterated their promise to dine on the Saturday at Passy, old Duval saying,-- “Of course, it is most kind of you to come to us, with all your engagements with marshals and dukes and princes; but,” with a significant look at Marsac, “some of those titled people you want to keep at long range.” “Especially the Prince de Landais and the Baroness Schmid,” boldly responded Marsac. The door was open, and the Duvals were going out after saying good-bye for the tenth time, when the two young men saw coming up the stairs the compact figure and shrewd face of Maurepas, their editor-in-chief. He met old Duval face to face on the landing. “Delighted to see you, Monsieur Duval,” cried Maurepas. “I was going to see you to-morrow; but if you will pardon a busy man for introducing business, just let me ask you to give me the refusal of that villa you have at Melun until I can get to see you.” “Sorry to disappoint you, but it is the day after the ball. I have just in effect sold it to Monsieur Fontaine,” replied Monsieur Duval, going on downstairs. Maurepas entered the room with the air of a chagrined man, and throwing down his hat, said crossly,-- “So, Fontaine, that newspaper story is true, and you have come into a great fortune?” “Not so very great,” answered Fontaine, modestly,--“only a couple of million francs.” “Oh, Lord!” sniffed Maurepas, “how our ideas have expanded! Well, I am glad your old uncle cut up so handsomely.” “Monsieur Maurepas,” said Marsac, severely, “I beg you will at least respect Fontaine’s mourning attire. It is exceedingly painful to us to have Monsieur Maurice Fontaine’s death alluded to in that flippant and heartless manner.”