"But I," replied Barine, after receiving, in reply to her inquiry, a
favourable report concerning her uncle's health-"I met seven--there were
neither more nor less; for seven is the best of numbers--seven snow-white
doves, which all flew swiftly towards the right. The fairest of all came
first, bearing in its beak a little basket which contained the power that
will keep Antony's son away from us. Don't look at me in such amazement,
you dear receptacle of every terror."

"But, child, you said that Archibius was coming so late to discuss an
important matter," rejoined the mother.

"He must be here soon."

"Then cease this talking in riddles; I do not guess them quickly."

"You will solve this one," returned Barine; "but we really have no time
to lose. So-my beautiful dove was a good, wise thought, and what it
carried in its basket you shall hear presently. You see, mother, many
will blame us, though here and there some one may pity; but this state of
things must not continue. I feel it more and more plainly with each
passing day; and several years must yet elapse ere this scruple becomes
wholly needless. I am too young to welcome as a guest every one whom
this or that man presents to me. True, our reception-hall was my
father's work-room and you, my own estimable, blameless mother, are the
hostess here; but though superior to me in every respect, you are so
modest that you shield yourself behind your daughter until the guests
think of you only when you are absent. So those who seek us both merely
say, 'I am going to visit Barine'--and there are too many who say this--
I can no longer choose, and this thought--"