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ace。 From his /lyceens/ uniform he was evidently a schoolboy； and the book he was reading was the /Arabian Nights/。 Small wonder that he was deeply absorbed。 He sat perfectly still in a meditative attitude； with his elbow on the table； and his hand propping his headthe white fingers contrasting strongly with the brown hair into which they were thrust。 As he sat； with the light turned full upon his face； and the rest of his body in shadow； he looked like one of Raphael's dark portraits of himselfa bent head and intent eyes filled with visions of the future。
Between the table and the Marquise a tall； beautiful girl sat at her tapestry frame； sometimes she drew back from her work； sometimes she bent over it； and her hair； picturesque in its ebony smoothness and darkness； caught the light of the lamp。 Helene was a picture in herself。 In her beauty there was a rare distinctive character of power and refinement。 Though her hair was gathered up and drawn back from her face； so as to trace a clearly marked line about her head； so thick and abundant was it； so recalcitrant to the comb； that it sprang back in curl…tendrils to the nape of her neck。 The bountiful line of eyebrows was evenly marked out in dark contrasting outline upon her pure forehead。 On her upper lip； beneath the Grecian nose with its sensitively perfect curve of nostril； there lay a faint； swarthy shadow； the sign…manual of courage； but the enchanting roundness of contour； the frankly innocent expression of her other features； the transparence of the delicate carnations； the voluptuous softness of the lips； the flawless oval of the outline of the face； and with these； and more than all these； the saintlike expression in the girlish eyes； gave to her vigorous loveliness the distinctive touch of feminine grace； that enchanting modesty which we look for in these angels of peace and love。 Yet there was no suggestion of fragility about her； and； surely； with so grand a woman's frame； so attractive a face； she must possess a corresponding warmth of heart and strength of soul。
She was as silent as her schoolboy brother。 Seemingly a prey to the fateful maiden meditations which baffle a father's penetration and even a mother's sagacity； it was impossible to be certain whether it was the lamplight that cast those shadows that flitted over her face like thin clouds over a bright sky； or whether they were passing shades of secret and painful thoughts。
Husband and wife had quite forgotten the two older children at that moment； though now and again the General's questioning glance traveled to that second mute picture； a larger growth； a gracious realization； as it were； of the hopes embodied in the baby forms rioting in the foreground。 Their faces made up a kind of living poem； illustrating life's various phases。 The luxurious background of the salon； the different attitudes； the strong contrasts of coloring in the faces； differing with the character of differing ages； the modeling of the forms brought into high relief by the lightaltogether it was a page of human life； richly illuminated beyond the art of painter； sculptor； or poet。 Silence； solitude； night and winter lent a final touch of majesty to complete the simplicity and sublimity of this exquisite effect of nature's contriving。 Married life is full of these sacred hours； which perhaps owe their indefinable charm to some vague memory of a better world。 A divine radiance surely shines upon them； the destined compensation for some portion of earth's sorrows； the solace which enables man to accept life。 We seem to behold a vision of an enchanted universe； the great conception of its system widens out before our eyes； and social life pleads for its laws by bidding us look to the future。
Yet in spite of the tender glances that Helene gave Abel and Moina after a fresh outburst of merriment； in spite of the look of gladness in her transparent face whenever she stole a glance at her father； a deep melancholy pervaded her gestures； her attitude； and more than all； her eyes veiled by their long lashes。 Those white； strong hands； through which the light passed； tinting them with a diaphanous； almost fluid redthose hands were trembling。 Once only did the eyes of the mother and daughter clash without shrinking； and the two women read each other's thoughts in a look； cold； wan； and respectful on Helene's part； sombre and threatening on her mother's。 At once Helene's eyes were lowered to her work； she plied her needle swiftly； and it was long before she raised her head； bowed as it seemed by a weight of thought too heavy to bear。 Was the Marquise over harsh with this one of her children？ Did she think this harshness needful？ Was she jealous of Helene's beauty？She might still hope to rival Helene； but only by the magic arts of the toilette。 Or again； had her daughter； like many a girl who reaches the clairvoyant age； read the secrets which this wife （to all appearance so religiously faithful in the fulfilment of her duties） believed to be buried in her own heart as deeply as in a grave？
Helene had reached an age when purity of soul inclines to pass over… rigid judgments。 A certain order of mind is apt to exaggerate transgression into crime； imagination reacts upon conscience； and a young girl is a hard judge because she magnifies the seriousness of the offence。 Helene seemed to think herself worthy of no one。 Perhaps there was a secret in her past life； perhaps something had happened； unintelligible to her at the time； but with gradually developing significance for a mind grown susceptible to religious influences； something which lately seemed to have degraded her； as it were； in her own eyes； and according to her own romantic standard。 This change in her demeanor dated from the day of reading Schiller's noble tragedy of /Wilhelm Tell/ in a new series of translations。 Her mother scolded her for letting the book fall； and then remarked to herself that the passage which had so worked on Helene's feelings was the scene in which Wilhelm Tell； who spilt the blood of a tyrant to save a nation； fraternizes in some sort with John the Parricide。 Helene had grown humble； dutiful； and self…contained； she no longer cared for gaiety。 Never had she made so much of her father； especially when the Marquise was not by to watch her girlish caresses。 And yet； if Helene's affection for her mother had cooled at all； the change in her manner was so slight as to be almost imperceptible； so slight that the General could not have noticed it； jealous though he might be of the harmony of home。 No masculine insight could have sounded the depths of those two feminine natures； the one was young and generous； the other sensitive and proud； the first had a wealth of indulgence in her nature； the second was full of craft and love。 If the Marquise made her daughter's life a burden to her by a woman's subtle tyranny； it was a tyranny invisible to all but the victim； and for the rest； these conjectures only called forth after the event must remain conjectures。 Until this night no accusing flash of light had escaped either of them； but an ominous mystery was too surely growing up between them； a mystery known only to themselves and God。
〃Come； Abel；〃 called the M