The faces of my parents grew more and more solemn. A sudden feeling of dread came over me, and I began to examine my conscience if perchance----It was clear, thank Heaven, else I should have felt very miserable. My father looked expectantly at my mother. “Caroline, will you have the kindness?” “I thought that you meant to----” returned my mother. “Oh, no, I beg you----” said he. And with an effort, and dropping her hands upon the comforter, my mother began: “Paula, you are now grown up; nearly eighteen----” “And look as if you were twenty,” added my father; to which my Duphot, making assent, becomes scarlet, and totters upon her treacherous seat. My mother continues: “Next year, dear child, you are to go out into the great world.” “Oh, yes; I am so glad, dear mamma.” “You are glad because you do not know how poor and worthless are the pleasures which await you there, and how dearly bought.” “Yes, yes,” put in papa, “and one should ask one’s self _cui bono_, what is the aim of it all?” Mamma took up the argument. “None other than that of self-examination, and to enable one to arrive at the conclusion, _que le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle_. Everyone plays at the game for a time, my dear Paula, because it is the correct thing to do.” “Oh, and because it is amusing, mamma, and because one is young and loves gayety and dancing!” She assented. “But thinking persons cannot hide from themselves the consciousness of the hollowness of it all, and then they turn to the realities of life, often bitterly to repent of their wasted years. Now my question to you is: Were it not wiser to save yourself these wasted years, and to begin at once with the realities of life?” “It is but a question,” interposed my father, in a tone of deepest affection, and I read in his words the silent refrain, “Do whatever you like.” “Yes, certainly, it is but a question,” assented mamma. And my Duphot echoed, “_Une question_,” while drops of perspiration stood out upon her forehead. Her trouble and agitation overcame me. I thought, “Great Heavens! what can they be meaning to do with me?” And seized with a sudden dread, I cried: “Am I to go into a convent?” Mamma smiled; papa laughed; Mme. Duphot blurted out: “_Tout au contraire!_” I grew still more agitated. Suddenly it flashed across me. “Then I am going to be married!” Papa patted me kindly on the shoulder. “You must surely have observed that one of the gentlemen introduced to you at your sister’s house has been paying you marked attention?” “No, papa. I assure you I have not.” “But he has conversed with you every evening; the last time he remained a full half hour in conversation with you.” “Who is it?” “Count Taxen.” “A tall, dark man?” “No, a fair young man, of middle height.”