On arriving at the chateau the Rosiere was received with shouts of applause; and, before one dance was concluded, Lisette to all appearance had forgotten that she had a sister existing. Not so Dorsain; he sate apart from the villagers, watching the thoughtless and unfeeling girl, his affectionate heart picturing to himself the sorrow of his sister's family. Surely the time _must_ come, he thought, when the eyes of Lisette will be opened. Surely she cannot long remain in such total ignorance of her own bad conduct. And this is the Rosiere, the chosen maiden of the village! Oh, Salenciens, how ignorant must you be! how dark must be your state when, judging only by outward seemings, you crowned this girl for virtue! D'Elsac shed tears when he thought of this, and when he remembered that Caliste was the one chosen next to her sister, he wept still more bitterly for the state of the human race in general. Alas! he inquired, where does virtue dwell? It has been imagined to leave the crowded cities, and to reside in lowly cottages; but here, as it were, are the hearts of two peasant girls laid open for our inspection, and, oh! how black and sinful do they appear. D'Elsac sorrowed as one without hope, for his religion taught him that without merit no man can see the Lord; and still grieving he felt the hand of some person upon his shoulder, and looking round he perceived it was Margoton. "Brother," she said, "our dear child is, I trust, better. I have left Victorine to attend her, indeed she will not let Victorine go out of her sight; but Valmont thought we had better make our appearance, if only for an hour, at Lisette's fete. The Seigneur has shown much kindness and condescension to Lisette, and it would not do for us to appear inattentive for so much goodness, though I must own I shall not be easy till I return to my poor child." "Then if you must stay here," said Dorsain, "if you must do so much violence to your feelings, I think you had better go nearer to those who are dancing." "Yes, I know I ought," she answered, "but I am ashamed for my children's sake. Too, too many suspect the cause of my poor Caliste's illness. Oh, Dorsain, how proud I was of my two daughters! how neglectful of Victorine! and now my beautiful girls make me blush for them, and my modest Victorine by her own unobtrusiveness has attracted, it is true, but little admiration, yet nothing but respect and love can be attached to her name." "But Lisette," inquired Dorsain, with an air of astonishment, for though he had heard words from her lips during their walk to the chateau that made him ashamed for her, yet he believed they were known only to himself. "What of Lisette, sister?" "Look at her now!" exclaimed her mother. "Look at her, Dorsain. Would you think by her countenance that at this moment the sister, who was her chief companion in infancy, was lying on a sick bed, to which she has been the innocent means of bringing her?"