enlightened, and whom the heirs displeased, chose that grand music which must be studied in order to be understood, with a view to disgust these women of their desire to hear her play. The more beautiful music is, the less the ignorant like it. So, when the door opened, and the Abbé Chaperon showed his venerable head: "Ah! here is Monsieur le Curé!" the heirs exclaimed, happy, all of them, to rise and put an end to their punishment.

This exclamation found an echo at the card-table, where Bongrand, the doctor of Nemours, and the old man were victims of the presumption with which the tax-collector, to please his great uncle, had proposed to make the fourth hand at whist. Ursula left the Forte. The doctor rose as if to salute the curate, but, in reality, to stop the game. After great compliments to their uncle on the talent of his god-daughter, the heirs took their leave.

"Good evening, my friends," said the doctor, when they heard the gate shut.

-"Ah! this is what costs so dear," said Madame Cremière to Madame Massin, when they were at some paces' distance.

"God preserve me from paying money for my little Aline to make such noise as that in the house," replied Madame Massin. "She says that it is Bethovan, who passes, it seems, for a great musician," said the receiver; "he has reputation!"

"My faith, it will not be at Nemours," replied Madame Cremière, and he is well named Bête à Vent."

I believe that our uncle has done that on purpose, to prevent our coming again," said Massin, "for he winked his eyes in showing the green volume to his little piece of affectation.”

"If they amuse themselves with such a jingle as that, they do well to remain at home."

"Monsieur le Juge de Paix must love well to play cards, to be willing to listen to it," said Madame Cremière.

"I shall never be able to play before persons who do not understand music," said Ursula, coming to sit down by the cardtable.

"The sentiments in richly organized persons can only develope themselves in a friendly sphere," said the curate of Nemours. "Just as the priest can not bless in presence of the evil spirit, as the chestnut tree dies in a stiff soil, a musician of genius experiences an interior defeat when he is surrounded by the ignorant and

coarse.

In the arts, we ought to receive from souls who serve as

a sphere to our soul as much force as we communicate to them. This axiom which reigns in human affections has dictated the proverbs: We must howl with the wolves;' Birds of a feather flock together." But the kind of suffering which you must have felt, strikes only tender and delicate natures."

"Thus, my friends," said the doctor, "what would only trouble a woman, might kill my little Ursula. Ah! when I shall be no longer, raise between this dear flower and the world that protecting hedge of which the verses of Catullus speak: Ut flos, etc."

"These ladies have, however, been very flattering towards you, Ursula," said the magistrate, smiling.

"Coarsely flattering," observed the doctor of Nemours.

"I have always remarked coarseness in flatteries made to order," answered old Minoret; "and why?"

"A true thought carries its delicacy with it," said the Abbé. "You have dined with Madame de Portenduère ?" then asked Ursula, who questioned the Abbé Chaperon, casting upon him a look full of anxious curiosity.

"Yes the poor lady is much afflicted, and it is not impossible that she may come to see you this evening, Monsieur Minoret." "If she is in sorrow, and have need of me, I will go to her," cried the doctor. "Let us finish the last rubber."

Under the table, Ursula pressed the old man's hand.

at Paris without a Mentor. When I knew that they were taking, here at the notary's, informations concerning the old lady's farm, I guessed that he was discounting his mother's death."

"Do you believe him capable of that," said Ursula, darting a terrible look at M. Bongrand, who said, within himself: "Alas! yes, she loves him.”

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'Yes and no," said the doctor of Nemours. "Savinien has good in him, and for that reason even he is in prison: scoundrels never get there."

"My friends," exclaimed old Minoret, "this is enough for this evening; we must not let a poor mother weep a minute longer, when we can dry her tears."

The four friends rose and went out. Ursula accompanied them as far as the gate, looked at her god-father and the curate knocking at the door in front; and when Trennette had introduced them,

she seated herself on one of the outer steps of the house, having La Bougival near her.

"Madame la Vicomtesse," said the curate, who first entered the little parlor, "Monsieur le Docteur Minoret has not been willing that you should trouble yourself to come to him."

"I am too much of the old school, Madame," continued the doctor, "not to know what a man owes to a lady like yourself, and I am too happy, since Monsieur le Curé has informed me of your mishap, to be able to serve you in any manner."

Madame de Portenduère, who, notwithstanding her reluctant concession, had, since the Abbé Chaperon's departure, nearly concluded to address herself rather to the notary of Nemours, was so much surprised by Minoret's delicacy, that she rose to answer his bow, and offered him an arm-chair.

"Be seated, sir," she said, with a queenly air. "Our dear curate will have told you that the Vicount is in prison for some youthful debts-100,000 francs. If you could lend them to him, I would give you a mortgage on my farm des Bordières."

"We can speak of that, Madame la Vicomtesse, when I shall have brought your son home to you, if, indeed, you permit me to be your intendant on this occasion."

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This is well, Monsieur le Docteur," replied the old lady, inclining her head and looking at the curate with an air that seemed to say, You are right, he is a man of good company.

My friend the doctor," then said the curate, “ Madame, full of devotion for your house."

is, as you see,

"We shall know how to be grateful, Monsieur," said Madame de Portenduère, visibly making an effort; " for at your age to adventure in Paris on the track of a heedless boy"

Madame, in '65 I had the honor to meet the illustrious Admiral de Portenduère with that excellent M. de Malesherbes, and at the house of Count Buffon, who desired some information of him on many curious facts of his voyages. It is not impossible that the late Monsieur de Portenduère, your husband, may have been there. The French navy was then glorious; it held its own with England, and the captain animated this game with his courage. How impatiently, in '83 and '84, we used to expect news from the camp of St. Roch! I was near starting myself as physician in the King's armies. Your great uncle, who is still alive, the Admiral Ker

garouet, then fought his famous battle, for he was on the Belle Poule."

"Ah! if he knew that his grand-son is in prison !"

"Monsieur le Vicomte will no longer be there two days hence," said old Minoret, rising. He extended his hand to take that of the old lady, who allowed him to do so; he pressed upon it a respectful kiss, bowed low, and went out; but turned back to say to the curate :

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Will you, my dear Abbé, take a place in the diligence for me for to-morrow morning?"

The curate remained half an hour longer chanting the praises of Dr. Minoret, who had intended to make a conquest of the old lady, and who had done it.

"He is astonishing for his age," said she; "he speaks of going to Paris and attending to my son's affairs, as though he were only twenty-five years old. He has seen good company!"

The best, Madame; and now more than one son of a peer of France would be happy to marry his niece with a million. Ah! if this idea passed through Savinien's heart, times are so changed that it is not on your side the greatest difficulties would lie, after your son's conduct."

It was the profound amazement into which this last phrase threw the old lady, that enabled the curate to finish his sentence. You have lost your senses, my dear Abbé Chaperon."

You will think on it, Madame, and God grant that your son may henceforth so conduct himself as to win this old man's esteem!"

"If it were not you, Monsieur le Curé-if it were any one else that spoke thus to me"

....

"You would never see him again," said the Abbé, smiling. "Let us hope that your dear son keeps you informed of what is going on in Paris, in the way of alliances. You will think of Savinien's happiness, and after having already compromised his future, you will not hinder him from making a position for himself."

"And it is you who tell me this!"

"If I did not tell you, who is there that would?" exclaimed the priest, rising and making a prompt retreat.

- The curate saw Ursula and her god-father walking up and down in the court. The doctor, whose weakness was equal to his strength

had been so much tormented by his god-daughter, that he had just yielded she wanted to go to Paris—and assigned a thousand pretexts. He called the curate, who came, and asked him to take the whole coupé for him, if the diligence office was still open.

The next day, at half past six in the evening, the old man and the maiden arrived at Paris, where, that same evening, the doctor went to consult his notary.

The political horizon was lowering. The magistrate of Nemours had several times said to the doctor, that it was very rash to keep any money in Government stocks as long as the quarrel between the press and the Court remained unsettled. Minoret's notary approved the advice indirectly given by the magistrate. The doctor took the opportunity of this journey to realize his shares of stocks, which all stood high, and to deposit his capital at the Bank. The notary engaged his old client to sell also the funds left by Monsieur de Jordy to Ursula, and which he had invested to advantage, like a good father of a family. He promised to bring into the field a business agent, excessively astute, to treat with Savinien's creditors; but it was necessary, in order to succeed, that the young man should have the courage to remain still some days in prison.

"Precipitation in matters of this kind costs at least fifteen per cent.," said the notary to the doctor. "And, in the first place, you will not have your funds before seven or eight days."

When Ursula learned that Savinien would be still at least a week in prison, she besought her guardian to let her accompany him there one single time. Old Minoret refused. The uncle and niece were lodged in a hotel of the street Croix des Petits-Champs, where the doctor had taken a suitable apartment; and knowing his pupil's religious truthfulness, he made her promise not to go out when he should be abroad on business. The good man took Ursula to walk in Paris, through the boulevards, the passages, the palaces; but nothing amused or interested her.

"What do you wish, then?" asked the old man.

"To see Sainte-Pèlagie," she replied, persistently.

Minoret then took a hack as far as the Rue de la Clefs, where the carriage stopped before the mean looking front of that once convent, then transformed into a prison. The sight of those high, gray walls, all whose windows are barred, of that wicket which we only can enter by stooping— sinister lesson !—that sombre mass in