least live. Courage, my wife! I will go at once for employment. Many
men older than I am are at watch on the ramparts, and will march to the
battle on the next sortie."

"It shall not be so," exclaimed Madame Rameau, vehemently, and winding
her arm round her husband's neck. "I loved my son better than thee once
--more shame to me. Now, I would rather lose twenty such sons than peril
thy life, my Jacques! Madame," she continued, turning to the Venosta,
"thou wert wiser than I. Thou wert ever opposed to the union between thy
young friend and my son. I felt sore with thee for it--a mother is so
selfish when she puts herself in the place of her child. I thought that
only through marriage with one so pure, so noble, so holy, Gustave could
be saved from sin and evil. I am deceived. A man so heartless to his
parents, so neglectful of his affianced, is not to be redeemed. I
brought about this betrothal: tell Isaura that I release her from it.
I have watched her closely since she was entrapped into it. I know how
miserable the thought of it has made her, though, in her sublime devotion
to her plighted word, she sought to conceal from me the real state of her
heart. If the betrothal bring such sorrow, what would the union do!
Tell her this from me. Come, Jacques, come away!"

"Stay, Madame!" exclaimed the Venosta, her excitable nature much affected
by this honest outburst of feeling. "It is true that I did oppose, so
far as I could, my poor Piccola's engagement with M. Gustave. But I dare
not do your bidding. Isaura would not listen to me. And let us be just!
M. Gustave may be able satisfactorily to explain his seeming indifference
and neglect. His health is always very delicate; perhaps he may be again
dangerously ill. He serves in the National Guard; perhaps--" she paused,
but the mother conjectured the word left unsaid, and, clasping her hands,
cried out in anguish, "Perhaps dead!--and we have wronged him! Oh,