Withthathegavehimselfaresoundingblowonthecavityofhischestandtookupapositionbeforethefireplace，aftercastingaglanceatModeste，whichslippedlikearayoflightbetweenhisheavyhalf—closedeyelids。Heperceived，inthisunexpectedincident，achanceofinterrogatingtheheartofhissovereign。DumaythoughtforamomentthattheclerkdaredtoaspiretoModeste，andheexchangedarapidglancewiththeothers，whounderstoodhim，andbegantoeyethelittlemanwithaspeciesofterrormingledwithcuriosity。
　　"I，too，havemydreams，"saidButscha，nottakinghiseyesfromModeste。
　　Theyounggirlloweredhereyelidswithamovementthatwasarevelationtotheyoungman。
　　"Youloveromance，"hesaid，addressingher。"Letme，inthismomentofhappiness，tellyoumine;andyoushalltellmeinreturnwhethertheconclusionofthetaleIhaveinventedformylifeispossible。Tomewealthwouldbringgreaterhappinessthantoothermen;forthehighesthappinessIcanimaginewouldbetoenrichtheoneIloved。
　　You，mademoiselle，whoknowsomanythings，tellmeifitispossibleforamantomakehimselfbelovedindependentlyofhisperson，beithandsomeorugly，andforhisspiritonly？"
　　ModesteraisedhereyesandlookedatButscha。Itwasapiercingandquestioningglance;forshesharedDumay’ssuspicionofButscha’smotive。
　　"Letmeberich，andIwillseeksomebeautifulpoorgirl，abandonedlikemyself，whohassuffered，whoknowswhatmiseryis。Iwillwritetoherandconsoleher，andbeherguardianspirit;sheshallreadmyheart，mysoul;sheshallpossessbydoublewealth，mytwowealths，——
　　mygold，delicatelyoffered，andmythoughtrobedinallthesplendorwhichtheaccidentofbirthhasdeniedtomygrotesquebody。ButI
　　myselfshallremainhiddenlikethecausethatscienceseeks。Godhimselfmaynotbeglorioustotheeye。Well，naturally，themaidenwillbecurious;shewillwishtoseeme;butIshalltellherthatI
　　amamonsterofugliness;Ishallpicturemyselfhideous。"
　　AtthesewordsModestegaveButschaaglancethatlookedhimthroughandthrough。Ifshehadsaidaloud，"Whatdoyouknowofmylove？"shecouldnothavebeenmoreexplicit。
　　"IfIhavethehonorofbeinglovedforthepoemofmyheart，ifsomedaysuchlovemaymakeawomanthinkmeonlyslightlydeformed，Iaskyou，mademoiselle，shallInotbehappierthanthehandsomestofmen，——ashappyasamanofgeniusbelovedbysomecelestialbeinglikeyourself。"
　　Thecolorwhichsuffusedtheyounggirl’sfacetoldthecripplenearlyallhesoughttoknow。
　　"Well，ifthatbeso，"hewenton，"ifweenrichtheonewelove，ifwepleasethespiritandwithdrawthebody，isnotthatthewaytomakeone’sselfbeloved？Atanyrateitisthedreamofyourpoordwarf，——adreamofyesterday;forto—dayyourmothergivesmethekeytofuturewealthbypromisingmethemeansofbuyingapractice。ButbeforeIbecomeanotherGobenheim，Iseektoknowwhetherthisdreamcouldbereallycarriedout。Whatdoyousay，mademoiselle，YOU？"
　　Modestewassoastonishedthatshedidnotnoticethequestion。Thetrapoftheloverwasmuchbetterbaitedthanthatofthesoldier，forthepoorgirlwasrenderedspeechless。
　　"PoorButscha！"whisperedMadameLatournelletoherhusband。"Doyouthinkheisgoingmad？"
　　"YouwanttorealizethestoryofBeautyandtheBeast，"saidModesteatlength;"butyouforgetthattheBeastturnedintoPrinceCharming。"
　　"Doyouthinkso？"saidthedwarf。"NowIhavealwaysthoughtthatthattransformationmeantthephenomenonofthesoulmadevisible，obliteratingtheformunderthelightofthespirit。IfIwerenotlovedIshouldstayhidden，thatisall。Youandyours，madame，"hecontinued，addressinghismistress，"insteadofhavingadwarfatyourservice，willnowhavealifeandafortune。"
　　Sosaying，Butscharesumedhisseat，remarkingtothethreewhist—
　　playerswithanassumptionofcalmness，"Whosedealisit？"butwithinhissoulhewhisperedsadlytohimself:"Shewantstobelovedforherself;shecorrespondswithsomepretendedgreatman;howfarhasitgone？"
　　"Dearmamma，itisnearlyteno’clock，"saidModeste。
　　MadameMignonsaidgood—nighttoherfriends，andwenttobed。
　　TheywhowishtoloveinsecretmayhavePyreneanhounds，mothers，Dumays，andLatournellestospyuponthem，andyetnotbeinanydanger;butwhenitcomestoalover！——ah！thatisdiamondcutdiamond，flameagainstflame，mindtomind，anequationwhosetermsaremutual。
　　OnSundaymorningButschaarrivedattheChaletbeforeMadameLatournelle，whoalwayscametotakeModestetochurch，andheproceededtoblockadethehouseinexpectationofthepostman。
　　"HaveyoualetterforMademoiselleMignon？"hesaidtothathumblefunctionarywhenheappeared。
　　"No，monsieur，none。"
　　"Thishousehasbeenagoodcustomertothepostoflate，"remarkedtheclerk。
　　"Youmaywellsaythat，"repliedtheman。
　　Modestebothheardandsawthelittlecolloquyfromherchamberwindow，whereshealwayspostedherselfbehindtheblindsatthisparticularhourtowatchforthepostman。Sherandownstairs，wentintothelittlegarden，andcalledinanimperativevoice:——
　　"MonsieurButscha！"
　　"HereamI，mademoiselle，"saidthecripple，reachingthegateasModesteherselfopenedit。
　　"Willyoubegoodenoughtotellmewhetheramongyourvarioustitlestoawoman’saffectionyoucountthatoftheshamelessspyinginwhichyouarenowengaged？"demandedthegirl，endeavoringtocrushherslavewiththeglanceandgestureofaqueen。
　　"Yes，mademoiselle，"heansweredproudly。"Ah！Ineverexpected，"hecontinuedinalowtone，"thatthegrubcouldbeofservicetoastar，——butsoitis。WouldyouratherthatyourmotherandMonsieurDumayandMadameLatournellehadguessedyoursecretthanone，excludedasitwerefromlife，whoseekstobetoyouoneofthoseflowersthatyoucutandwearforamoment？Theyallknowyoulove;butI，Ialone，KNOWHOW。Usemeasyouwouldavigilantwatch—dog;Iwillobeyyou，protectyou，andneverbark;neitherwillIcondemnyou。Iaskonlytobeofservicetoyou。YourfatherhasmadeDumaykeeperofthehen—
　　roost，takeButschatowatchoutside，——poorButscha，whodoesn’taskforanything，notsomuchasabone。"
　　"Well，I’vegiveyouatrial，"saidModeste，whosestrongestdesirewastogetridofsocleverawatcher。"PleasegoatoncetoallthehotelsinGravilleandinHavre，andaskifagentlemanhasarrivedfromEnglandnamedMonsieurArthur——"
　　"Listentome，mademoiselle，"saidButscha，interruptingModesterespectfully。"Iwillgoandtakeawalkontheseashore，foryoudon’twantmetogotochurchto—day;that’swhatitis。"
　　Modestelookedatherdwarfwithaperfectlystupidastonishment。
　　"Mademoiselle，youhavewrappedyourfaceincotton—woolandasilkhandkerchief，butthere’snothingthematterwithyou;andyouhaveputthatthickveilonyourbonnettoseesomeoneyourselfwithoutbeingseen。"
　　"Wheredidyouacquireallthatperspicacity？"criedModeste，blushing。
　　"Moreover，mademoiselle，youhavenotputonyourcorset;acoldintheheadwouldn’tobligeyoutodisfigureyourwaistandwearhalfadozenpetticoats，norhideyourhandsintheseoldgloves，andyourprettyfeetinthosehideousshoes，nordressyourselflikeabeggar—
　　woman，nor——"
　　"That’senough，"shesaid。"HowamItobecertainthatyouwillobeyme？"
　　"MymasterisobligedtogotoSainte—Adresse。Hedoesnotlikeit，butheissotrulygoodhewon’tdeprivemeofmySunday;Iwilloffertogoforhim。"
　　"Go，andIwilltrustyou。"
　　"YouaresureIcandonothingforyouinHavre？"
　　"Nothing。Hearme，mysteriousdwarf，——look，"shecontinued，pointingtothecloudlesssky;"canyouseeasingletraceofthatbirdthatflewbyjustnow？No;wellthen，myactionsarepureastheairispure，andleavenostainbehindthem。YoumayreassureDumayandtheLatournelles，andmymother。Thathand，"shesaid，holdingupaprettydelicatehand，withthepointsoftherosyfingers，throughwhichthelightshone，slightlyturningback，"willneverbegiven，itwillneverevenbekissedbywhatpeoplecallaloveruntilmyfatherhasreturned。"
　　"Whydon’tyouwantmeinthechurchto—day？"
　　"DoyouventuretoquestionmeafterallIhavedoneyouthehonortosay，andtoaskofyou？"
　　Butschabowedwithoutanotherword，anddepartedtofindhismaster，inalltheraptureofbeingtakenintotheserviceofhisgoddess。
　　Halfanhourlater，MonsieurandMadameLatournellecametofetchModeste，whocomplainedofahorribletoothache。
　　"Ireallyhavenothadthecouragetodressmyself，"shesaid。
　　"Wellthen，"repliedtheworthychaperone，"stayathome。"
　　"Oh，no！"saidModeste。"Iwouldrathernot。Ihavebundledmyselfup，andIdon’tthinkitwilldomeanyharmtogoout。"
　　AndMademoiselleMignonmarchedoffbesideLatournelle，refusingtotakehisarmlestsheshouldbequestionedabouttheoutwardtremblingwhichbetrayedherinwardagitationatthethoughtofatlastseeinghergreatpoet。Onelook，thefirst，——wasitnotabouttodecideherfate？
　　CHAPTERXIII
　　AFULL—LENGTHPORTRAITOFMONSIEURDELABRIERE
　　Isthereinthelifeofmanamoredelightfulmomentthanthatofafirstrendezvous？Arethesensationsthenhiddenatthebottomofourheartsandfindingtheirfirstexpressioneverrenewed？Canwefeelagainthenamelesspleasuresthatwefeltwhen，likeErnestdeLaBriere，welookedupoursharpestrazors，ourfinestshirt，anirreproachablecollar，andourbestclothes？Wedeifythegarmentsassociatedwiththatall—suprememoment。Weweavewithinuspoeticfanciesquiteequaltothoseofthewoman;andthedaywheneitherpartyguessesthemtheytakewingstothemselvesandflyaway。Arenotsuchthingsliketheflowerofwildfruits，bitter—sweet，grownintheheartofaforest，thejoyofthescantsun—rays，thejoy，asCanalissaysinthe"Maiden’sSong，"oftheplantitselfwhoseeyesunclosingseeitsownimagewithinitsbreast？
　　Suchemotions，nowtakingplaceinLaBriere，tendtoshowthat，likeotherpoorfellowsforwhomlifebeginsintoilandcare，hehadneveryetbeenloved。ArrivingatHavreovernight，hehadgonetobedatonce，likeatruecoquette，toobliteratealltracesoffatigue;andnow，aftertakinghisbath，hehadputhimselfintoacostumecarefullyadaptedtoshowhimofftothebestadvantage。Thisis，perhaps，therightmomenttoexhibitafull—lengthportraitofhim，ifonlytojustifythelastletterthatModestewasstilltowritetohim。
　　BornofagoodfamilyinToulouse，andalliedbymarriagetotheministerwhofirsttookhimunderhisprotection，Ernesthadthatairofgood—breedingwhichcomesofaneducationbeguninthecradle;andthehabitofmanagingbusinessaffairsgavehimacertainsedatenesswhichwasnotpedantic，——thoughpedantryisthenaturaloutgrowthofprematuregravity。Hewasofordinaryheight;hisface，whichwonuponallwhosawhimbyitsdelicacyandsweetness，waswarmintheflesh—
　　tints，thoughwithoutcolor，andrelievedbyasmallmoustacheandimperialalaMazarin。Withoutthisevidenceofvirilityhemighthaveresembledayoungwomanindisguise，sorefinedwastheshapeofhisfaceandthecutofhislips，sofemininethetransparentivoryofasetofteeth，regularenoughtohaveseemedartificial。Addtothesewomanlypointsahabitofspeechasgentleastheexpressionoftheface;asgentle，too，astheblueeyeswiththeirTurkisheyelids，andyouwillreadilyunderstandhowitwasthattheministeroccasionallycalledhisyoungsecretaryMademoiselledeLaBriere。Thefull，clearforehead，wellframedbyabundantblackhair，wasdreamy，anddidnotcontradictthecharacteroftheface，whichwasaltogethermelancholy。
　　Theprominentarchoftheuppereyelid，thoughverybeautifullycut，overshadowedtheglanceoftheeye，andaddedaphysicalsadness，——ifwemaysocallit，——producedbythedroopofthelidovertheeyeball。
　　Thisinwarddoubtoreclipse——whichisputintolanguagebythewordmodesty——wasexpressedinhiswholeperson。Perhapsweshallbeabletomakehisappearancebetterunderstoodifwesaythatthelogicofdesignrequiredgreaterlengthintheovalofhishead，morespacebetweenthechin，whichendedabruptly，andtheforehead，whichwasreducedinheightbythewayinwhichthehairgrew。Thefacehad，inshort，arathercompressedappearance。Hardworkhadalreadydrawnfurrowsbetweentheeyebrows，whichweresomewhattoothickandtooneartogether，likethoseofajealousnature。ThoughLaBrierewasthenslight，hebelongedtotheclassoftemperamentswhichbegin，aftertheyarethirty，totakeonanunexpectedamountofflesh。
　　TheyoungmanwouldhaveseemedtoastudentofFrenchhistoryaveryfairrepresentativeoftheroyalandalmostinconceivablefigureofLouisXIII。，——thathistoricalfigureofmelancholymodestywithoutknowncause;pallidbeneaththecrown;lovingthedangersofwarandthefatiguesofhunting，buthatingwork;timidwithhismistresstotheextentofkeepingawayfromher;soindifferentastoallowtheheadofhisfriendtobecutoff，——afigurethatnothingcanexplainbuthisremorseforhavingavengedhisfatheronhismother。WasheaCatholicHamlet，ormerelythevictimofincurabledisease？Buttheundyingwormwhichgnawedattheking’svitalswasinErnest’scasesimplydistrustofhimself，——thetimidityofamantowhomnowomanhadeversaid，"Ah，howIlovethee！"and，aboveall，thespiritofself—devotionwithoutanobject。Afterhearingtheknellofthemonarchyinthefallofhispatron’sministry，thepoorfellowhadnextfallenuponarockcoveredwithexquisitemosses，namedCanalis;
　　hewas，therefore，stillseekingapowertolove，andthisspaniel—
　　likesearchforamastergavehimoutwardlytheairofakingwhohasmetwithhis。Thisplayoffeeling，andageneraltoneofsufferingintheyoungman’sfacemadeitmorereallybeautifulthanhewashimselfawareof;forhehadalwaysbeenannoyedtofindhimselfclassedbywomenamongthe"handsomedisconsolate，"——aclasswhichhaspassedoutoffashioninthesedays，wheneverymanseekstoblowhisowntrumpetandputhimselfintheadvance。
　　Theself—distrustfulErnestnowrestedhisimmediatehopesonthefashionableclothesheintendedtowear。Heputon，forthissacredinterview，whereeverythingdependedonafirstimpression，apairofblacktrousersandcarefullypolishedboots，asulphur—coloredwaistcoat，whichlefttosightanexquisitelyfineshirtwithopalbuttons，ablackcravat，andasmallbluesurtoutcoatwhichseemedgluedtohisbackandshouldersbysomenewly—inventedprocess。TheribbonoftheLegionofhonorwasinhisbuttonhole。Heworeawell—
　　fittingpairofkidglovesoftheFlorentinebronzecolor，andcarriedhiscaneandhatinthelefthandwithagestureandairthatwasworthyoftheGrandMonarch，andenabledhimtoshow，asthesacredprecinctsrequired，hisbareheadwiththelightfallingonhiscarefullyarrangedhair。Hestationedhimselfbeforetheservicebeganinthechurchporch，fromwhencehecouldexaminethechurch，andtheChristians——moreparticularlythefemaleChristians——whodippedtheirfingersintheholywater。
　　AninwardvoicecriedtoModesteassheentered，"Itishe！"Thatsurtout，andindeedthewholebearingoftheyoungmanwereessentiallyParisian;theribbon，thegloves，thecane，theveryperfumeofhishairwerenotofHavre。SowhenLaBriereturnedabouttoexaminethetallandimposingMadameLatournelle，thenotary，andthebundled—up（expressionsacredtowomen）figureofModeste，thepoorchild，thoughshehadcarefullytutoredherselffortheevent，receivedaviolentblowonherheartwhenhereyesrestedonthispoeticfigure，illuminatedbythefulllightofdayasitstreamedthroughtheopendoor。Shecouldnotbemistaken;asmallwhiterosenearlyhidtheribbonoftheLegion。Wouldherecognizehisunknownmistressmuffledinanoldbonnetwithadoubleveil？Modestewassoinfearoflove’sclairvoyancethatshebegantostoopinherwalklikeanoldwoman。
　　"Wife，"saidlittleLatournelleastheytooktheirseats，"thatgentlemandoesnotbelongtoHavre。"
　　"Somanystrangerscomehere，"answeredhiswife。
　　"But，"saidthenotary，"strangersnevercometolookatachurchlikeours，whichislessthantwocenturiesold。"
　　Ernestremainedintheporchthroughouttheservicewithoutseeinganywomanwhorealizedhishopes。Modeste，onherpart，couldnotcontrolthetremblingofherlimbsuntilMasswasnearlyover。Shewasinthegraspofajoythatnonebutsheherselfcoulddepict。Atlastsheheardthefoot—fallofagentlemanonthepavementoftheaisle。Theserviceover，LaBrierewasmakingacircuitofthechurch，wherenoonenowremainedbutthepunctiliouslypious，whomheproceededtosubjecttoashrewdandkeenanalysis。Ernestnoticedthataprayer—
　　bookshookviolentlyinthehandsofaveiledwomanashepassedher;
　　asshealonekeptherfacehiddenhissuspicionswerearoused，andthenconfirmedbyModeste’sdress，whichthelover’seyenowscannedandnoted。HeleftthechurchwiththeLatournellesandfollowedthematadistancetotherueRoyale，wherehesawthementerahouseaccompaniedbyModeste，whosecustomitwastostaywithherfriendstillthehourofvespers。Afterexaminingthelittlehouse，whichwasornamentedwithscutcheons，heaskedthenameoftheowner，andwastoldthathewasMonsieurLatournelle，thechiefnotaryinHavre。AsErnestloungedalongtherueRoyalehopingforaglimpseintothehouse，Modestecaughtsightofhim，andthereupondeclaredherselftooilltogotovespers。PoorErnestthushadhistroubleforhispains。
　　HedarednotwanderaboutIngouville;moreover，hemadeitapointofhonortoobeyorders，andhethereforewentbacktoParis，previouslywritingaletterwhichFrancoiseCochetdulydeliveredonthemorrowwiththeHavrepostmark。
　　ItwasthecustomofMonsieurandMadameLatournelletodineattheChaleteverySundaywhentheybroughtbackModesteaftervespers。So，assoonastheinvalidfeltalittlebetter，theystartedforIngouville，accompaniedbyButscha。Onceathome，thehappyModesteforgotherpretendedillnessandherdisguise，anddressedherselfcharmingly，hummingasshecamedowntodinner，——
　　"Noughtissleeping——Heart！awaking，Liftthineincensetotheskies。"
　　Butschashudderedslightlywhenhecaughtsightofher，sochangeddidsheseemtohim。Thewingsoflovewerefastenedtohershoulders;shehadtheairofanymph，aPsyche;hercheeksglowedwiththedivinecolorofhappiness。
　　"Whowrotethewordstowhichyouhaveputthatprettymusic？"askedhermother。
　　"Canalis，mamma，"sheanswered，flushingrosyredfromherthroattoherforehead。
　　"Canalis！"criedthedwarf，towhomtheinflectionsofthegirl’svoiceandherblushtoldtheonlythingofwhichhewasstillignorant。"He，thatgreatpoet，doeshewritesongs？"
　　"Theyareonlysimpleverses，"shesaid，"whichIhaveventuredtosettoGermanairs。"
　　"No，no，"interruptedMadameMignon，"themusicisyourown，mydaughter。"
　　Modeste，feelingthatshegrewmoreandmorecrimson，wentoffintothegarden，callingButschaafterher。
　　"Youcandomeagreatservice，"shesaid。"Dumayiskeepingasecretfrommymotherandmeastothefortunewhichmyfatherisbringingbackwithhim;andIwanttoknowwhatitis。DidnotDumaysendpapawhenhefirstwentawayoverfivehundredthousandfrancs？Yes。Well，papaisnotthekindofmantostayawayfouryearsandonlydoublehiscapital。Itseemsheiscomingbackonashipofhisown，andDumay’sshareamountstoalmostsixhundredthousandfrancs。"
　　"ThereisnoneedtoquestionDumay，"saidButscha。"Yourfatherlost，asyouknow，aboutfourmillionswhenhewentaway，andhehasdoubtlessrecoveredthem。HewouldofcoursegiveDumaytenpercentofhisprofits;theworthymanadmittedtheotherdayhowmuchitwas，andmymasterandIthinkthatinthatcasethecolonel’sfortunemustamounttosixorsevenmillions——"
　　"Oh，papa！"criedModeste，crossingherhandsonherbreastandlookinguptoheaven，"twiceyouhavegivenmelife！"
　　"Ah，mademoiselle！"saidButscha，"youloveapoet。ThatkindofmanismoreorlessofaNarcissus。Willheknowhowtoloveyou？A
　　phrase—maker，alwaysbusyinfittingwordstogether，mustbeabore。
　　Mademoiselle，apoetisnomorepoetrythanaseedisaflower。"
　　"Butscha，Ineversawsohandsomeaman。"
　　"Beautyisaveilwhichoftenservestohideimperfections。"
　　"Hehasthemostangelicheartofheaven——"
　　"IprayGodyoumayberight，"saidthedwarf，claspinghishands，"——andhappy！Thatmanshallhave，asyouhave，aservantinJeanButscha。Iwillnotbenotary;Ishallgivethatup;Ishallstudythesciences。"
　　"Why？"
　　"Ah，mademoiselle，totrainupyourchildren，ifyouwilldeigntomakemetheirtutor。But，oh！ifyouwouldonlylistentosomeadvice。
　　Letmetakeupthismatter;letmelookintothelifeandhabitsofthisman，——findoutifheiskind，orbad—tempered，orgentle，ifhecommandstherespectwhichyoumeritinahusband，ifheisabletoloveutterly，preferringyoutoeverything，evenhisowntalent——"
　　"WhatdoesthatsignifyifIlovehim？"
　　"Ah，true！"criedthedwarf。
　　AtthatinstantMadameMignonwassayingtoherfriends，——
　　"Mydaughtersawthemanshelovesthismorning。"
　　"Thenitmusthavebeenthatsulphurwaistcoatwhichpuzzledyouso，Latournelle，"saidhiswife。"Theyoungmanhadaprettywhiteroseinhisbuttonhole。"
　　"Ah！"sighedthemother，"thesignofrecognition。"
　　"AndhealsoworetheribbonofanofficeroftheLegionofhonor。Heisacharmingyoungman。Butwearealldeceivingourselves;Modesteneverraisedherveil，andherclotheswerehuddledonlikeabeggar—
　　woman’s——"
　　"Andshesaidshewasill，"criedthenotary;"butshehastakenoffhermufflingsandisjustaswellassheeverwas。"
　　"Itisincomprehensible！"saidDumay。
　　"Notatall，"saidthenotary;"itisnowasclearasday。"
　　"Mychild，"saidMadameMignontoModeste，asshecameintotheroom，followedbyButscha，"didyouseeawell—dressedyoungmanatchurchthismorning，withawhiteroseinhisbutton—hole？"
　　"Isawhim，"saidButschaquickly，perceivingbyeverybody’sstrainedattentionthatModestewaslikelytofallintoatrap。"ItwasGrindot，thefamousarchitect，withwhomthetownisintreatyfortherestorationofthechurch。HehasjustcomefromParis，andImethimthismorningexaminingtheexteriorasIwasonmywaytoSainte—
　　Adresse。"
　　"Oh，anarchitect，washe？hepuzzledme，"saidModeste，forwhomButschahadthusgainedtimetorecoverherself。
　　DumaylookedaskanceatButscha。Modeste，fullywarned，recoveredherimpenetrablecomposure。Dumay’sdistrustwasnowthoroughlyaroused，andheresolvedtogothemayor’sofficeearlyinthemorningandascertainifthearchitecthadreallybeeninHavrethepreviousday。
　　Butscha，ontheotherhand，wasequallydeterminedtogotoParisandfindoutsomethingaboutCanalis。
　　Gobenheimcametoplaywhist，andbyhispresencesubduedandcompressedallthisfermentationoffeelings。Modesteawaitedhermother’sbedtimewithimpatience。Sheintendedtowrite，butneverdidsoexceptatnight。Hereistheletterwhichlovedictatedtoherwhilealltheworldwassleeping:——
　　ToMonsieurdeCanalis，——Ah！myfriend，mywell—beloved！Whatatrociousfalsehoodsthoseportraitsintheshop—windowsare！AndI，whomadethathorriblelithographmyjoy！——Iamhumbledatthethoughtoflovingonesohandsome。No;itisimpossiblethatthoseParisianwomenaresostupidasnottohaveseentheirdreamsfulfilledinyou。Youneglected！youunloved！Idonotbelieveawordofallthatyouhavewrittenmeaboutyourlonelyandobscurelife，yourhungerforanidol，——soughtinvainuntilnow。Youhavebeentoowellloved，monsieur;yourbrow，whiteandsmoothasamagnolialeaf，revealsit;anditisIwhomustbeneglected，——forwhoamI？Ah！whyhaveyoucalledmetolife？Ifeltforamomentasthoughtheheavyburdenofthefleshwasleavingme;mysoulhadbrokenthecrystalwhichhelditcaptive;itpervadedmywholebeing;thecoldsilenceofmaterialthingshadceased;allthingsinnaturehadavoiceandspoketome。Theoldchurchwasluminous。It’sarchedroof，brilliantwithgoldandazurelikethoseofanItaliancathedral，sparkledabovemyhead。Melodiessuchastheangelssangtomartyrs，quietingtheirpains，soundedfromtheorgan。TheroughpavementsofHavreseemedtomyfeetaflowerymead;theseaspoketomewithavoiceofsympathy，likeanoldfriendwhomIhadnevertrulyunderstood。Isawclearlyhowtherosesinmygardenhadlongadoredmeandbiddenmelove;theyliftedtheirheadsandsmiledasIcamebackfromchurch。Iheardyourname，"Melchior，"chimingintheflower—bells;Isawitwrittenontheclouds。Yes，yes，Ilive，Iamliving，thankstothee，——mypoet，morebeautifulthanthatcold，conventionalLordByron，withafaceasdullastheEnglishclimate。Oneglanceofthine，thineOrientglance，piercedthroughmydoubleveilandsentthybloodtomyheart，andfromthencetomyheadandfeet。
　　Ah！thatisnotthelifeourmothergaveus。Ahurttotheewouldhurtmetooattheveryinstantitwasgiven，——mylifeexistsbythythoughtonly。Iknownowthepurposeofthedivinefacultyofmusic;theangelsinventedittoutterlove。Ah，myMelchior，tohavegeniusandtohavebeautyistoomuch;amanshouldbemadetochoosebetweenthemathisbirth。
　　WhenIthinkofthetreasuresoftendernessandaffectionwhichyouhavegivenme，andmoreespeciallyforthelastmonth，IaskmyselfifIdream。No，butyouhidesomemystery;whatwomancanyieldyouuptomeandnotdie？Ah！jealousyhasenteredmyheartwithlove，——loveinwhichIcouldnothavebelieved。HowcouldI
　　haveimaginedsomightyaconflagration？Andnow——strangeandinconceivablerevulsion！——Iwouldratheryouwereugly。
　　WhatfolliesIcommittedafterIcamehome！Theyellowdahliasremindedmeofyourwaistcoat，thewhiterosesweremylovingfriends;Ibowedtothemwithalookthatbelongedtoyou，likeallthatisofme。Theverycolorofthegloves，mouldedtohandsofagentleman，yourstepalongthenave，——all，all，issoprintedonmymemorythatsixtyyearshenceIshallseetheveriesttriflesofthisdayofdays，——thecoloroftheatmosphere，therayofsunshinethatflickeredonacertainpillar;Ishallheartheprayeryourstepinterrupted;Ishallinhaletheincenseofthealtar;foreverIshallfeelaboveourheadsthepriestlyhandsthatblessedusbothasyoupassedbymeattheclosingbenediction。ThegoodAbbeMarcelinmarriedusthen！Thehappiness，abovethatofearth，whichIfeelinthisnewworldofunexpectedemotionscanonlybeequalledbythejoyoftellingittoyou，ofsendingitbacktohimwhopoureditintomyheartwiththelavishnessofthesunitself。Nomoreveils，nomoredisguises，mybeloved。Comebacktome，oh，comebacksoon。WithjoyInowunmask。
　　YouhavenodoubtheardofthehouseofMignoninHavre？Well，I
　　am，throughanirreparablemisfortune，itssoleheiress。Butyouarenottolookdownuponus，descendantofanAuvergneknight;
　　thearmsoftheMignondeLaBastiewilldonodishonortothoseofCanalis。Webeargules，onabendsablefourbezantsor;
　　quarterlyfourcrossespatriarchalor;acardinal’shatascrest，andthefiocchiforsupports。Dear，Iwillbefaithfultoourmotto:"Unafides，unusDominus！"——thetruefaith，andoneonlyMaster。
　　Perhaps，myfriend，youwillfindsomeironyinmyname，afterallthatIhavedone，andallthatIhereinavow。IamnamedModeste。
　　ThereforeIhavenotdeceivedyoubysigning"O。d’EsteM。"
　　NeitherhaveImisledyouaboutourfortune;itwillamount，I
　　believe，tothesumwhichrenderedyousovirtuous。Iknowthattoyoumoneyisaconsiderationofsmallimportance;thereforeI
　　speakofitwithoutreserve。Letmetellyouhowhappyitmakesmetogivefreedomofactiontoourhappiness，——tobeabletosay，whenthefancyfortraveltakesus，"Come，letusgoinacomfortablecarriage，sittingsidebyside，withoutathoughtofmoney"——happy，inshort，totelltheking，"Ihavethefortunewhichyourequireinyourpeers。"ThusModesteMignoncanbeofservicetoyou，andhergoldwillhavethenoblestofuses。
　　Astoyourservantherself，——youdidseeheronce，atherwindow。
　　Yes，"thefairestdaughterofEvethefair"wasindeedyourunknowndamozel;buthowlittletheModesteofto—dayresemblesherofthatlongpastera！Thatonewasinhershroud，thisone——
　　haveImadeyouknowit？——hasreceivedfromyouthelifeoflife。