At the very first glance Marcel Baradier noticed that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was of a very elegant figure, with a countenance of great gentleness. On further examination he did not find her pretty. Her features were irregular, but her face was lit up by eyes of limpid blue, radiant with frankness and amiability. She was standing there, an upright and slender form, in her sombre school-dress, with the blue ribbon on her breast. On Madame Baradier introducing Marcel to her she made a respectful bow, and said in delightful accents— “I could not take my leave, madame, without thanking you for your kind welcome. Mademoiselle de Trémont and myself are very fond of one another. For a year we have been close companions, and I sympathize with her present suffering, as though her loss were also mine. It is a great relief to me, now that we are obliged to separate, to know that she will be with one who loves her. I hope you will permit her to speak to you of me, so that she may not forget me too soon, and, perhaps, instil into your mind a little of the sympathy her heart feels for me.” Marcel was still under the charm of the voice that uttered these gentle words, when those clear, luminous eyes fell on him. He returned the look with an inquisitive and, perhaps, rather bold glance, for she immediately turned aside. At the same time a slight blush, as though accompanied with a shudder, passed over her smiling face, which suddenly became serious. “I must thank you, mademoiselle, for the sentiments you express regarding our dear Geneviève. For ourselves,” continued Madame Baradier, “rest assured we shall not endeavour to influence her in her affections.” Mademoiselle Lichtenbach bowed, gave a graceful nod to Amélie, and, on passing in front of Marcel, heard the latter say to her, in troubled tones— “Permit me, mademoiselle, to show you the way.” Opening the door of the salon, and, taking the mantle the young girl had left in the hall, he placed it over her shoulders. Then, walking by her side, his mother and sister looking on in stupefaction, he descended the steps, followed by the footman. On reaching the bottom he said, with a charm full of grace— “Mademoiselle de Trémont’s departure will doubtless make your stay at the convent seem rather sad to you now, mademoiselle?” “Yes. I hope Geneviève will not forget me, but come and see me.” “After all, probably you will not stay long yourself at the Sacre-Coeur.” “I was like Mademoiselle de Trémont, alone with my father. Geneviève will find a mother in Madame Baradier, whilst I—”