brow, there are the long lashes, and that sad, unfathomable smile. Oh,
how much past telling lies in a woman's smile! Seek not, then, for
unmixed joy and pleasure! Her smile serves but to veil untold sorrows,
anxiety for the future, even heartrending cares. The maid, the wife, the
mother, smile and smile, even when the heart is breaking and the abyss is
opening. O woman! this is thy part in the mortal struggle of human life!"

I was pursuing these reflections when the lord of Nideck began to speak--

"If my dear child Odile would but consult my wishes I believe my health
would return."

I looked towards the young countess; she fixed her eyes on the floor, and
seemed to be praying silently.

"Yes," the sick man went on, "I should then return to life; the prospect
of seeing myself surrounded by a young family, and of pressing
grandchildren to my heart, and beholding the succession to my house,
would revive me."

At the mild and gentle tone of entreaty in which this was said I felt
deeply moved with compassion; but the young lady made no reply.

In a minute or two the count, who kept his watchful eyes upon her, went
on--

"Odile, you refuse to make your father a happy man? I only ask for a
faint hope. I fix no time. I won't limit your choice. We will go to
court. There you will have a hundred opportunities of marrying with
distinction and with honour. Who would not be proud to win my daughter's