And yet Lucille had long conquered the one disadvantage she most dreaded
in the want of beauty. Lucille was never known but to be loved.
Wherever came her presence, her bright and soft mind diffused a certain
inexpressible charm; and where she was not, a something was absent from
the scene which not even Julie's beauty could replace.

"I propose," said St. Amand to Madame le Tisseur, Lucille's mother, as he
sat in her little salon,--for he had already contracted that acquaintance
with the family which permitted him to be led to their house, to return
the visits Madame le Tisseur had made him, and his dog, once more
returned a penitent to his master, always conducted his steps to the
humble abode, and stopped instinctively at the door,--"I propose," said
St. Amand, after a pause, and with some embarrassment, "to stay a little
while longer at Malines; the air agrees with me, and I like the quiet of
the place; but you are aware, madam, that at a hotel among strangers, I
feel my situation somewhat cheerless. I have been thinking"--St. Amand
paused again--"I have been thinking that if I could persuade some
agreeable family to receive me as a lodger, I would fix myself here for
some weeks. I am easily pleased."

"Doubtless there are many in Malines who would be too happy to receive
such a lodger."

"Will you receive me?" asked St. Amand, abruptly. "It was of _your_
family I thought."

"Of us? Monsieur is too flattering. But we have scarcely a room good
enough for you."