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to the voice of religion。 The pleasures of this life bring nothing but misery。 You are about to make an exchange of sorrows； that is all。〃
She smiled bitterly。
〃I will falsify your predictions；〃 she said。 〃I shall be faithful to him who died for me。〃
〃Sorrow；〃 he answered； 〃is not likely to live long save in souls disciplined by religion；〃 and he lowered his eyes respectfully lest the Marquise should read his doubts in them。 The energy of her outburst had grieved him。 He had seen the self that lurked beneath so many forms； and despaired of softening a heart which affliction seemed to sear。 The divine Sower's seed could not take root in such a soil； and His gentle voice was drowned by the clamorous outcry of self…pity。 Yet the good man returned again and again with an apostle's earnest persistence； brought back by a hope of leading so noble and proud a soul to God； until the day when he made the discovery that the Marquise only cared to talk with him because it was sweet to speak of him who was no more。 He would not lower his ministry by condoning her passion； and confined the conversation more and more to generalities and commonplaces。
Spring came； and with the spring the Marquise found distraction from her deep melancholy。 She busied herself for lack of other occupation with her estate； making improvements for amusement。
In October she left the old chateau。 In the life of leisure at Saint… Lange she had recovered from her grief and grown fair and fresh。 Her grief had been violent at first in its course； as the quoit hurled forth with all the player's strength； and like the quoit after many oscillations； each feebler than the last； it had slackened into melancholy。 Melancholy is made up of a succession of such oscillations； the first touching upon despair； the last on the border between pain and pleasure； in youth； it is the twilight of dawn； in age； the dusk of night。
As the Marquise drove through the village in her traveling carriage； she met the cure on his way back from the church。 She bowed in response to his farewell greeting； but it was with lowered eyes and averted face。 She did not wish to see him again。 The village cure had judged this poor Diana of Ephesus only too well。
III。
AT THIRTY YEARS
Madame Firmiani was giving a ball。 M。 Charles de Vandenesse； a young man of great promise； the bearer of one of those historic names which； in spite of the efforts of legislation； are always associated with the glory of France； had received letters of introduction to some of the great lady's friends in Naples； and had come to thank the hostess and to take his leave。
Vandenesse had already acquitted himself creditably on several diplomatic missions； and now that he had received an appointment as attache to a plenipotentiary at the Congress of Laybach； he wished to take advantage of the opportunity to make some study of Italy on the way。 This ball was a sort of farewell to Paris and its amusements and its rapid whirl of life； to the great eddying intellectual centre and maelstrom of pleasure； and a pleasant thing it is to be borne along by the current of this sufficiently slandered great city of Paris。 Yet Charles de Vandenesse had little to regret； accustomed as he had been for the past three years to salute European capitals and turn his back upon them at the capricious bidding of a diplomatist's destiny。 Women no longer made any impression upon him； perhaps he thought that a real passion would play too large a part in a diplomatist's life； or perhaps that the paltry amusements of frivolity were too empty for a man of strong character。 We all of us have huge claims to strength of character。 There is no man in France； be he ever so ordinary a member of the rank and file of humanity； that will waive pretensions to something beyond mere cleverness。
Charles； young though he washe was scarcely turned thirtylooked at life with a philosophic mind； concerning himself with theories and means and ends； while other men of his age were thinking of pleasure； sentiments； and the like illusions。 He forced back into some inner depth the generosity and enthusiasms of youth； and by nature he was generous。 He tried hard to be cool and calculating； to coin the fund of wealth which chanced to be in his nature into gracious manners； and courtesy； and attractive arts； 'tis the proper task of an ambitious man； to play a sorry part to gain 〃a good position；〃 as we call it in modern days。
He had been dancing； and now he gave a farewell glance over the rooms； to carry away a distinct impression of the ball； moved； doubtless； to some extent by the feeling which prompts a theatre…goer to stay in his box to see the final tableau before the curtain falls。 But M。 de Vandenesse had another reason for his survey。 He gazed curiously at the scene before him； so French in character and in movement； seeking to carry away a picture of the light and laughter and the faces at this Parisian fete； to compare with the novel faces and picturesque surroundings awaiting him at Naples； where he meant to spend a few days before presenting himself at his post。 He seemed to be drawing the comparison now between this France so variable； changing even as you study her； with the manners and aspects of that other land known to him as yet only by contradictory hearsay tales or books of travel； for the most part unsatisfactory。 Thoughts of a somewhat poetical cast； albeit hackneyed and trite to our modern ideas； crossed his brain； in response to some longing of which； perhaps； he himself was hardly conscious； a desire in the depths of a heart fastidious rather than jaded； vacant rather than seared。
〃These are the wealthiest and most fashionable women and the greatest ladies in Paris；〃 he said to himself。 〃These are the great men of the day； great orators and men of letters； great names and titles； artists and men in power； and yet in it all it seems to me as if there were nothing but petty intrigues and still…born loves； meaningless smiles and causeless scorn； eyes lighted by no flame within； brain…power in abundance running aimlessly to waste。 All those pink…and…white faces are here not so much for enjoyment； as to escape from dulness。 None of the emotion is genuine。 If you ask for nothing but court feathers properly adjusted； fresh gauzes and pretty toilettes and fragile； fair women； if you desire simply to skim the surface of life； here is your world for you。 Be content with meaningless phrases and fascinating simpers； and do not ask for real feeling。 For my own part； I abhor the stale intrigues which end in sub…prefectures and receiver…generals' places and marriages； or； if love comes into the question； in stealthy compromises； so ashamed are we of the mere semblance of passion。 Not a single one of all these eloquent faces tells you of a soul； a soul wholly absorbed by one idea as by remorse。 Regrets and misfortune go about shame…facedly clad in jests。 There is not one woman here whose resistance I should care to overcome； not one who could drag you down to the pit。 Where will you find energy in Paris？ A poniard here is a curious toy to hang from a gilt nail； in a picturesque sheath to match。 The women； the brains； and hearts of Paris are all