"A thousand things."
"You bear me no ill-will, at least, Louise?" cried Montalais, pressing her hand.
"And why should I, my dear Aure?" replied the girl, in a voice soft as a flute.
"Dame!" resumed Mme. de St. Remy; "if she did bear you a little ill-will, poor girl, she could not be much blamed."
"And why should she bear me ill-will, good God?"
"It appears to me that she is of as good a family, and as pretty as you."
"Mother! mother!" cried Louise.
"Prettier a hundred times, madame — not of a better family; but that does not tell me why Louise should bear me ill-will."
"Do you think it will be very amusing for her to be buried alive at Blois, when you are going to shine at Paris?"
"But, madame, it is not I who prevents Louise following me thither; on the contrary, I should certainly be most happy if she came there."
"But it appears that Monsieur Malicorne, who is all-powerful at court"
"Ah! so much the worse, madame," said Malicorne; "every one for himself in this poor world."
"Malicorne! Malicorne!" said Montalais. Then stooping toward the young man:
"Occupy Madame de St. Remy, either in disputing with her, or making it up with her; I must speak to Louise." And, at the same time, a soft pressure of the hand recompensed Malicorne for his future obedience. Malicorne went grumbling toward Mme. de St. Remy, while Montalais said to her friend, throwing one arm around her neck:
"What is the matter? Say! Is it true that you would not love me if I were to shine, as your mother says?"
"Oh, no!" said the young girl, with difficulty restraining her tears; "on the contrary, I rejoice at your good fortune.
"Rejoice! why, one would say you are ready to cry!"
"Do people never weep but from envy?"
"Oh! yes, I understand; I am going to Paris; and that word Paris recalls to your mind a certain cavalier"
"Aure!"
"A certain cavalier who formerly lived near Blois, and who now resides at Paris."
"In truth, I know not what ails me, but I feel stifled."
"Weep, then, weep, as you cannot give me a smile!"
