knot of it. It was not a case for ordinary love-making; this girl
contained the last chapter of a romance, and from that moment all my
attentions were devoted to Rosalie. By dint of studying the girl, I
observed in her, as in every woman whom we make our ruling thought, a
variety of good qualities; she was clean and neat; she was handsome, I
need not say; she soon was possessed of every charm that desire can
lend to a woman in whatever rank of life. A fortnight after the
notary's visit, one evening, or rather one morning, in the small
hours, I said to Rosalie:

"'Come, tell me all you know about Madame de Merret.'

"'Oh!' she said, 'I will tell you; but keep the secret carefully.'

"'All right, my child; I will keep all your secrets with a thief's
honor, which is the most loyal known.'

"'If it is all the same to you,' said she, 'I would rather it should
be with your own.'

"Thereupon she set her head-kerchief straight, and settled herself to
tell the tale; for there is no doubt a particular attitude of
confidence and security is necessary to the telling of a narrative.
The best tales are told at a certain hour--just as we are all here at
table. No one ever told a story well standing up, or fasting.

"If I were to reproduce exactly Rosalie's diffuse eloquence, a whole
volume would scarcely contain it. Now, as the event of which she gave
me a confused account stands exactly midway between the notary's
gossip and that of Madame Lepas, as precisely as the middle term of a