Élysées.

My little princess had found a prince in her own country, and,
considering the laws of attraction, his sudden appearance in Paris ought
not to have been a surprise to her. But, to his discomfiture, and even
anger, Helen refused to see him. She had bidden him good-bye at home,
she said; they would not be married for three years, if they ever were:
she was going to devote herself to her music; and she did not wish to
see him here. When he had completed his studies and their engagement was
announced (it was only a mutual understanding now) there would be time
enough to see each other at home. Excellent reasoning! but a fortnight
later a tiny hand slipped between my eyes and the _Figaro_ a little
note on which I read:

"DEAR FRED: I think I should like to say good-bye again.

"Yours, HELEN."

The dark eyes looked half shyly, half coaxingly into mine.

"Well," said I, "Katrine will mail it for you."

The next day I saw for the first time Mr. Frederic Denham. He was tall
and slender; with a sallow complexion, rather dull gray eyes and black
hair, by no means handsome, but sufficiently well-looking to please a
friendly eye. In his manners there was a coldness and reserve which
passed for haughtiness. He was said to possess great talents and
ambition, and Helen had the fullest belief in his genius and success.
Not Goethe himself was a greater man in her eyes.