has sold, mortgaged, played the mischief with nearly every acre of his
own. He pleads the old engagement, and, as he is pleased to call it, the
old love. Madame de Courcelles is a young widow, very solitary, with no
one to love, no object to live for, and no experience of the world. Her
pity is easily awaked; and the result is that she not only accepts the
cousin, but lends him large sums of money; suffers the title-deeds of
her estates to go into the hands of his lawyer; and is formally
betrothed to him before the eyes of all Paris!"

"Who is this man? Where is he?" I asked, eagerly.

"He is an officer of Chasseurs, now serving with his regiment in
Algiers--a daring, dashing, reckless fellow; heartless and dissipated
enough; but a splendid soldier. However, having committed her property
to his hands, and suffered her name to be associated publicly with his,
Madame de Courcelles, during his absence in Algiers, has done me the
honor to prefer me. I have the first real love of her life, and the
short and long of it is, that we are to be privately married to-morrow."

"And why privately?"

"Ah, there's the pity of it! There's the disappointment and the
bitterness!"

"Can't Madame de Courcelles write and tell this man that she loves
somebody else better?"

"Confound it! no. The fellow has her too much in his power, and, if he
chose to be dishonest, could half ruin her. At all events she is afraid
of him; and I ... I am as helpless as a child in the matter. If I were a