FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1261, 30 April 1896, Page 40

FICTION.

THE SPRIGHTLY ROMAHCE OF 61ARSA0. • By Molly Elliott Seawall. (Continued,.) CHAPTER 11. One night, about six weeks after the advent of Uncle Maurice, Fontaine was waiting in the same garret room for Marsac, whom lie expected every moment. The paragraph had made an immense sensation, and had been copied not only in every newspaper in Paris, but also in France. Its success was obvious in the shabby little room itself, for, although up to that time not a franc in ready money had appeared, a new and confiding set of creditors had been found, with pleasing results. Instead of the chronic shabbincss of his clothes for years past, Fontaine was now very elegantly dimmed in a suit of mourning, supplied by his new tailor. From the density of his black, one would have thought that Fontaine had lost his whole family, liis new hat was a mass of crape, while the sombre severity oi his intensely black clothes and tie, and the inchdeep border that decorated his cards and writing-paper, could not be surpassed. Fontaine himself had spent six' weeks in the strictest seoiusion, answering all notes of enquiry with the deeply-bordered paper, and scaling them with inky wax. This was a great help toward setting the story oi l tide Maurice and his alleged lor tune on its legs, as it were.

Marsac, meanwhile, hail not boon idle. Everywhere and to everybody had lie repeated the story, and lie had invented a complete biography, with names and dates, for l,nole Maurice, besides painting his portrait, which was very cleverly smoked to take of the newness of the paint. The tradespeople, Marsac had declared, were the most necessary to convince, and if once they could bo made to believe in Undo Maurice the rest of the world would swallow the bait, tue hook, the lino, the bob and the sinker. This turned out to be as he predicted, and on a table on one side 01. the room was tangible evidence, ns well as in the clothes oil Fontaine’s back, that the scheme was a screaming success. A delicious little supper was set out, and guests were evidently expected. Fontaine moved about the room trying to improve its shabby aspect, and bis jovial whistling was in striking contrast to his ] ivory of woe. The writing-table had its familiar array of bills, but on top of them lay a large important-looking letter, which Fontaine returned to again and again, and cadi time with renewed pleasure, it bore tin'; address of one of the leading theatres in Paris, and ran as follows : ‘M. Auguste Fontaine. ‘ My Beak him, -Happening some days ago to read ail account of your deserved good fortune, I remember having had some corre-puii-denee with yon vegan ting a play—"A White Marriage.” J chanced to look in my strong box the same day, and there discovered the piny itself, where it had lain a whole yeas - a fate most unworthy of its grea! merit, and which could only have occur:-, d by the most a-ioiiixliing iosgrifulue-s on my part,. I make you ten thousand apologies, and assure you the loss is mine for, since meting the piece, I beg to have the honour of presenting it at line (h tie to Theatre. You have written a play which must command success, for 1 cannot understand it, nor will the public, and 1 presume no more can you. Ail ymi have to do, j therefore, is to have it prc-miitcd, and then i sit down and wait lor the critics to explain the play to you as to I lie red ol tue world. Each one is bound to give a different explanation, and as there, re .11/ i n t any satisfactory explanation to give, l.wy Will d to quaiT'dliicg a.ud your fort'!):-: will be made. li, is es:-,rut ini. in the drama ol to-day, I > bo compiex, and •when you are : o oomph-:; that noli nly, lisim tin; author down, knows wit i,t the (’evil a p'e.y i i about, or whe t problems you an* proving or oi 'pro,hug. y m v.ill im placed upon lii*'same pinmmle wiili Ibsen. .Maulerliiik and the rest of ihe Dutch tShukespeares. There is a slight Lewnnwy lo ei rumors in your style, which n.ius.t, be remedied if you wish to hr a really great nu.d-iim dramati.-L ; and your play is not ready vicious on u:gh - llio wile dom not fee) driven bye.:! imperative The to kill h -r In;-a.an 1; .-he merely gi ves him tin opiate whim stie e-wipes with her lever, iu -tend (>f giving him a pu li t of corrosive Mibhmutc. ism these are minor fiults in a work <•!' gv. at villain..'. A, t y and of or npcolivo p-.pu!ari!y, whieh L h -p- h ..ve the 1 ri.dirge of [irem.-ti; g \ ours irul.r, !. v 1 i FV.nbitnj isuem ■ i pie is: y e li • r. e 1 1 t . : j which Cecil d to give him pl-.iMuv. It vsfrom a pi-da re dm ler, and l-;e Hr am: m m <1 that an oner - f a Uu at an 1 franc.-: h m be n made for ‘A 1-lough Peg’ and it • im it a -.1 about taking it: Un-re was a price marked cm the picture—fifty something it con: In't bo fifty franc.:, ‘ But it was fifty franc-, till the same,’ mid Font line to himself. ‘And a thorns imi iraues! (Hood heavens! We will be as rich a: the Rothschilds, and wo will be abie to get, away from those quarters and that dreadful woman downstairs.’ | Mine. Floury had, of coarse, been among i the first to In: informed of Uncle Maurice s | death and Fontaine's fortune. Marsac, avnmd ] with many newspaper clippings ami with I alleged cablegrams, bad marched down to the ! entresol to convey the great news to her. | yiie had hoard him through calmly and with- | out winking an eyelash. But when he hud finished, Marsac bad not the slightest certainty that she had believed one word be bad told her. She had not proved at all troublesome or urgent about Fontaine, ami this puzzled Maivao still more. He could not tell wil'd her she r oily doubted the prud-nee : of her eng-tg -iimni with l-'onwin-' or wimi.li r. , in view of ■ i-e smisaiioua l :-it>ri-.-- gob. ■; around i abotil his weaifli, which v.-.m illy magnified fro 'i fwo to toll : .iiiioii fia: e . sis pro- 1 f> rred i.o be iic.i ••••at rati! the w -s i -;■ fill ! affair was proved or disproved. Marsac. i though, would have given a good deal to i have- got that writ feu agreement out of .Mine. | Fleary’s hands, and swore at himself many j timcs'adiy for ever having been bullied into making it. Presently the door opened, and Marsac entered, carrying a violin ease. He first j carefully removed liis hat, which proved to j bo full of flowers, with which ho decorated; the supper table, lie then opened the violin j case and took out six bottles of champagne. Like Fonlainc, be was extremely well dressed. ‘lt seems to me,’ said Fontaine, smiling,

‘ as if this little supper to your two friends of the ballet was somewhat oul of your line, considering you are so averse to women—eh, Marsac ?’

‘ Not at all,’ responded Marsac. l lt is not women, but matrimony, I fear, and it is out of my regard for the feminine sex that I have remained a bachelor.’

Fontaine’s reply to this was humming a little refrain, ‘Clare, I love thee!’ which presently made him sigh and look very gloomy. Marsac, who knew what turn his thoughts were taking, said slyly—--1 I met old Duval to-day.’ Fontaine jumped as if he had been shot. ‘And what did he sayf How is Clarer When are you going to let me out of this infernal confinement, so I can go to see the darling ’ ‘ Fie! fie! and you an engaged man!’ cried .Marsac, at the same time dodging r ontainc's new hat, which flew in his direction. ‘ Hut,’ ho continued, ‘ I have some good news for you. Old Duval lias read all the accounts of Uncle .Maurice, and lias the most: childlike faith in him—and I declare, Auguste, 1 begin to believe in the old fellow myself. Anyhow, M. Duval talked with me a whole hour this afternoon, and you may depend on it I .stuffed him, and the result is—now, don't go crazy lie move than hinted at a match between you and Clare.’ Fontaine fell on the sofa in an ecstasy, mm muring. 1 Dear, darling Clare!’ ‘And he is coining to sec you very soon to congratulate you. I told him you were going nowhere on account of your recent bereavement—and, listen to this, "he old fellow wants to oblige you, and as 1 mentioned, by way of corroborative testimony, that you were looking around for a country seat, he said he would sell you a villa lie has at Melun for Im,HOfl francs. Now, I laiowth.it Ahiurcpas, our editor-in-chief, is wild for that villa, and I have reason to think be will give 1-1-O,OLK) francs for it. ]to you seer’

‘ Yes,' said Fontaine, ‘ I buy it for D I I,OOO and sell it for But will if, workr’ ‘ Not if you jump down old Duval’s throat when lie nll'ers it to you.’ ' 1 shan't be able to help it.’ 1 Then you will be unworthy of your Unde Maurice, and I shall be sorry to have provided yon with such a relative.’ Just then the door opened, and, apparently, two young fellows, in ulsters and darby hats, walked in : but when they ctinui out of this chrysalis state, as it were, they turned out to be two very brigh[-looking ballet gilds. The two young men greeted them gallantly, roared with laughter at their account of how they slipped by the entresol without being suspected by Mme. Floury, who .sat at the bureau, and then the fun began. But at the very moment that two corks flew out with a loud report the door came open with a bang, and U me. Hchmid stalked in. Not ihuiquo’s ghost made a greater sensation at a party than this stout A Endian. Fontaine, following liis usual tactics, ran behind the screen. Mine hchmid, with one rapid glance at the table and the diampagne, uttered but one word, ‘Thieve;;!’ and made a dash for Fontaine, whom she collared and dragged out. ‘ oil, you pretty boy !’ she sere lined. ‘ This is your poverty—champagne and oysters and giving parties, when you can't pay your wash bill. I used to feel sorry for you when you were so poor, but now I know you are rolling in money, with ten million francs left you in America, and owing a poor woman two hundred francs for washing- that is you, and that siiek-toiigimd Marsac yonder!’ Hut Marsac was ml yonder, but directly behind Mme. Schmid, aid holding a big tumbler of champagne in one hand, while with the other he deftly seized her around the wui.-t and began pouring the champagne down her throat. At the same time he was talking her down, saying -- ' My dear girl, you really oughtn’t to come here. I twill ruin our reputations to have a hand mine young thing like you found in our up:!i'i iil -I.<.’ Mine. tSclimid, sputtering, protesting, but obliged to drink the chump igne, willy nill.y, wa : ; til! able to m ike a good deal of noise. ‘<>ii, you hypocrite ! You can't honejTuggle me ’ —gargle, gurgle, gurgle, the champagne flowed do,vn her throat. ‘ Honeyfu -g e you? Oil, you bewitelling creature ! You honeyfuggle me -another gki.x-, Font line.’ Another tumbler followed the first, Mine. Schmid trying to s iy - ‘ Flop hugging me, you impudent——•’ ’l'iie young ladies enjoyed this excessively, and before the second glass was wholly dis-po-s' l ol Ham. Schmid was struggling with Hi) emotions produced by the champagne, Merit. Us Ji.iMery and wrath at his unpaid bill, ten, being a thrifty Alsatian, the last wa. - I a no m-'.tn-. I'm goiten. An i - :•!■!.mly, amid all the laughing, choking. jukiv and cecum.,! ion, a voice was heard cadi g at 1 h-. l'o d ul' f h ‘ stairs - 'M • -'-lursae ! M. Fontaine! Open the door am! ewo me up She-.:.- confounded narrow ■ i am n;l bails for such alpine work as th is '* 1 i heavens, it is old Duval!’ exclaimed UmL-.iuo, v.i: i li.-., dropped, limp, into a j‘-‘" aml t-ww, him below for a moment,’ cried an I with wonderful quickness b" h:i -1 led in ■ I wo girls, nothing loath, in the '•j’ 1 ' 1 E where limy willingly simt the door, l iutl-i>: _r at Emir own predicament, it was sa.m •thing els •, though, to get rid of Mme. Schmid. Marsac hid alciu-t to drag her to tiie corridor door -she fl,.- l ;ti-ig like a tie or, and Marsac us-uring her th it it would forever destroy him should a young and handsome woman like her be found in their apartment. Barely was she shoved out, when Fontaine, with old Duval, entered, ami while greeting him Mar.-mo could hear dime. Schmid prancing up and down the corridor iu her wrath. M. Duval- broad, benevolent, simple and with the true auriferous air which belongs to the vulgar rich congratulated Fontaine on his accession to fortune. Fontaine received this modestly, while Marsac eulogised Uncle Maurice and pointed out the bcnevol-nee indicated j u every feature of the portrait hanging on ihe wall. Yes, yes,’ said M. Duval. ‘ You have had a great stroke ol Inch, young man, and I hope yon will be worthy of it.’ !o wife!i Fontaine r plied that lie hoped to prove hmizeii v.orthyof his Uncle Maurice's goodness. ‘And now,’ cried M. Duval, swelling - out his waistcoat, ‘ 1 must tell you that I have other objects in calling to see you to-night besides congratulating you on your good fortune. One is to sell you a, piece of property at Melun and the other is to ask you both to (.lino with me at my Fas.:-;/ viiia very soon. I wish you both to meet my niece Delphine, who has lately come to live with my daughter and mo. Would to-morrow suit?’ ‘ Perfectly,’ cried Fontaine, eagerly, but was checked by Marsac with a look.

‘ I think you have the poorest memory I ever saw,’ said Marsac severely to Fontaine. 1 Have you forgotten that to-morrow we dine with the Prince, and next day with the Marshal, the day after with the Archbishop?’ Duval, a little staggered by these magnificent names, remarked—- ‘ I thought you told me to-day that M. Fontaine was not going into society on account of his mourning ?’ ‘ So he is not,’ coolly responded Marsac. ‘ These arc merely little family affairs with people we have always known.’

This did not make old Duval any the less anxious to have them, and he named a day the next week, which Marsac and Fontaine, after an elaborate consultation of their notebooks, finally found they could accept.

‘And now, about the villa,’ said the old brewer, standing with bis feet wide apart and bis thumbs in liis waistcoat pockets. ‘ It's a very prctlv place at Melun—me daughter is wry fond cf it- tin 1 if you are looking for a country place. M Fontaine, you could not do better than take it at ninety thousand francs. ’

Fontaine, remembering Marsac’s injunction not to be 100 eager, hummed and hawed a little for effect, lie was deeply indebted to M. Duval for liis oiler - ninety thousand was a mere bagatelle, Ac.

Old Duval persisted, and his motive was ridiculously clear --every other word was, ‘ My daughter is fond of the Alehin place,’ ‘ My daughter could scarcely be persuaded to leave it, even for our liner house at Pussy.’ Marsac urged the apparently unwill ng Fontaine to accept the offer, mentioning several countesses, duchesses and princesses of their acquaintance who thought about buying places at Mulnn. At every menth n of a title the old brewer rose to the bait, ami was a 'perfectly happy man when Fontaine agreed to take the place at ninety thousand and expressed his gratitude to Al. Duval for favouring him with the purcli ise. The old man then got on the subject of his daughter, varied with digression* on his niece Delphine, who secerned to amuse him very much. ‘A tine, handsome girl Delphine is, but a “new woman” with a vengeance. Believes in a woman having a mission, and ail that, and is as deadly opposed to matrimony as our friend Marsac' - at which AL Duval cackled and chuckled with great enjoyment for some time.

‘ By the way.’ ho continued, 1 I expect her and my daughter to call for me on their way from a dinner, and they will be here before long. M. Fontaine, will you oblige me by telling the porter to direct them to wait awhile in case I should not bo quite ready to go?’

Al. Duval had an object iu getting Fontaine out of the way, for the moment the door closed upon him ho drew his chair up to Alars.ic’s, and began very seriously, and mopping bis forehead in his anxiety ‘ You know, M. Marsac, I have always thought extremely well of Al. Fontaine—and now that he has come into a snug fortune I should not mind -if lie if my daughter •’

Here AL Duval winked and Alamac grinned appreciatively. ‘ I understand perfectly,’ answered Marsac. ‘ About ten millions, I hear,’ remarked M. Duval in a whisper. ‘ Oh, no, no,’ replied Marsac, deproeatingly. ‘ That is a gross exaggeration. I give you my word, AL Duval, it is nothing like that. I know more about the matter than anybody except Fontaine, and I assure you that it is but two millions.’ 1 And how do you think M. Fontaine feels toward my daughter?’ Mar.-in knitted his brows thoughtfu'ly.

‘ I really don’t know,’ lie said at last. ‘ I have never heard Fontaine mention Mile. Clare except in general terms, but 1 know she is a very charming girl, and any man might iie glad and proud to have her. lint, M. Duval,’ said Marsac, confidentially, ‘you have no idea how the poor fellow iias been persecuted with propositions of the sort since liis Uncle Maurice’s death. At the club the dukes and marquises are sometimes four deep around him, all with an eye on him for a son-in-law.’ This whetted old Duval’s desire considerably. Marsac, seeing this, kept on. ‘ Now, here is a letter from the Prince de Landais (taking up Landais’ bill). I assure you neither of us know the man, except in a business way —and hero be writes, not only wanting Fontaine to marry bis daughter, but actually asking for money in advance, and he takes the tune of a person already entitled to it.’

‘A wretched, aristocratic pauper!’ cried old Duval, indignantly. ‘At least, the man who marries my Clare will not have a worthless father-in-law like this Prince de Landais to prey upon him !’

‘And here is a letter from Mme Schmid—or, rather, the Baroness Schmid -(Marsac made this addition, seeing how quickly M. Duval had jumped at every title he hud named). She is very particular about her title because she has juafc got it. This woman is a great swell, but a rude, coaise creature, oil enough to be Fontaine’s mother—a d. bv the wty (here Ala. sac put liis mouth to old Duval’s ean, she cuines to th s apartment in pursuit of him! He keeps out of her way, refuses to answer her letters, arid then she pursues him here ! She was in this room when you were announced below, ami it was with the greatest difficulty wo got her out. She is in the corridor stid, i believe.’ Marsac rose, and, taking the old brewer to the eoi rid .-r door, M. Duval knelt down and tin ougli the keyhole s iw Mme Schmid rampaging up and down the corridor like a caged lioness.

' Great heavens!’ whispered old Duval, ‘no one can blame AI. Fontaine for running away from such a woman.’ Scarcely were tin* words out of bis mouth when Mine Schmid, making a lunge at (lie door, it flew open, knocking AL Duval sprawling. Mme Schmid dashed in, walking over the prostrate AI. Duval as if he had boon a frog, and began to harangue Marsac violently and waving her arms about like a Dutch windmill.

‘ Ob, you deceiver I I know it isn’t worth while to do anything with M. Fontaine -you have him under your thumb —but I will biing yon both to terms, that I promise you. And where has Fontaine gone? You have stowed

him out of the way. J know it; you do so every time I come !’ Alarsao’s only reply was to catch her round the waist and say soothingly, as lie dragged her back to the door

j My dear girl, you will certainly ruin Fontaine’s reputation if you act in this manner.’ And, having got her outside the door, lie took the precaution to lock it as he stepped back into the room.

‘ That’s a sample of what poor Fontaine has had to put up with since lie came into his money. And there is another one —a widow — who is worse than all.’

1 Oh, Jupiter !’ was M. Duval’s exclamation.

‘ A very handsome woman—a countoss—the Comtesso do Floury. She got a written promise out of Fontaine, in a moment of weakness, you understand?’

‘ Yes ; a widow and a moment cf weakness I understand. Go on.’

‘ It isn’t of the slightest legal value, though, as I can testify that it was obtained under duress; and Fontaine would give half his worth to get rid of her.’ As Marsac said this about tho written agreement lie could not help wishing with all his heart that he had it that moment in his possession.

M. Duval reflected seriously for some minutes before speaking. ‘I acknowledge to you,’ lie said, ‘that I regard a widow in an affair of this sort as a person to be reckoned with. I hear you have great influence with M. Fontaine ’ ‘Not a particle,' Marsac protested, vigorously. Nonsense! You are trying to fool me. Hut I will say this to you: takinginto account my daughter's fancy for your friend Fontaine, and his good character and his good birth and his fortune, if you can bring about an—arrangement, you understand—it will be for the happiness of (lie young people.’ ' I would do anything for Fontaine’s lnippi-

‘ Then couldn't you —ahem—the widownow, you are yourself a very attractive fellow. Perhaps the widow might make an exchange.’ ‘Take me, do you moan? My dear sir, I would do anything on earth for Fontaine but one, and that is to get married. I have sworn that I will never be taken alive.’

‘Ha ! ha I That’s the way Delphine talks. And now, perhaps. 1 can oblige you in a small way. I intend next month reorganising my breweries into a stock company, and I have positive assurances that the shares will command a premium. If you and your friend Fontaine can raise ten thousand francs within the next week I can let you in on the ground floor, and in three weeks you will make fifty flonsand francs each.’

You shall have my cheque to-morrow morning - ,’ promptly answered Marsac, who had not a sou to liis credit or in hand. Old Duval then began to examine the room. The supper table seemed to strike him favourably, but the room did not. ‘lt seems to me,’ lie said, ‘that - —ahem - your friend might have better quarters. This is pretty high up.’

‘ Yes,’ answered Marsac, ‘ but our surroundings are more valuable than you think. We have been collectors in our time, J assure you. Do you fee that sofa?’

‘Yes,’ said AL Duval, punching the poor old sofa, ‘ Hut it’s moth eaten. It ought to be mended here.’

‘lt would he sacrilege to touch that sofa. Tt belonged to Hotel - tho Great. He made that hole in it. 1 forget exactly what wo paid for it, but it is insured for forty thousand francs.’

AI. Duval’s mouth came wide open with surprise.

‘ And this mirror,’ kept on Marsac, pursuing his advantage. ‘lt is cracked —but by whom ? By Almo Pompadour. One day the King was very disobliging to her, and she flew into a passion. She picked up a (hero Marsac halted, but bis eye falling on their rusty bellows, he resumed glibly) she picked uu a pair of bellows and threw them at the King. His Majesty dodged, and smash went the bellows against the mirror—and here are the veritable bellows. Tho mirror and bellows are worth together about 25,000 francs.’ Old Duval examined them with the highest respect. ‘ And do you see this violin?’

Marsac handed the old brewer the violin. ‘ All,' cried M. Duval, delighted to show lie knew something about violins, ‘ a Stradivarius, perhaps ?’

‘ My dear sir,’ said Marsac, in a tone of pity, ‘that violin was old when Stradivarius was young. It is the identical instrument that Nero fiddled on when Koine was burning !’

This reduced AL Duval to an amazed silence, during which they heard laughter and voices on the stairs, and the door opened, admitting Fontaine and two remarkably pretty girls. ‘ Dear papa,’ cried one of them, ‘ just aa we got to the door the wheel came off the carriage, and tho coachman had to go to a stable after another carriage, and M. Fontaine brought us up here.’ 1 Quito right,’ replied M. Duval, looking fondly at his daughter. ‘ You know M. Alarsac —but I must present him to you, Delphine. Oh, you two should get on famously, you are both such haters of marriage !’

H he instant Marsac’s eyes lighted on Dolpliine ho felt a singular sensation. She was slight and tall, with a patrician beauty of face and figure, and an air of self-possession second only to Mme Floury’s. Delphine, too, felt an instant attraction toward Marsac, with his bright eyes, his alert look of intelligence and his gentlemanly figure. This perception of Marsac’s charm caused her to say lightly, yet with a faint blush ‘ I am not exactly a hater of marriage. I only regard it as a primitive and somewhat unintelligent arrangement.’

Tile effect ol those few words from the lips of a woman he had not seen but sixty seconds produced a strange effect on Ala/sac. Ho felt a slight chill of disappointment, but he answered in his old strain -

‘Jmt what I have often longed to say, mademoiselle, but never had the courage. ‘ Hut 1 have,’ remarked Delp'dno, showing her beautiful teeth in a smile ’ Women, you Kuo v, have much more r ail count-e than men. E.-peeially is this true in limes ol great calamity.’

‘ Yes, indeed,’ said Marsac, with energy. ‘ I have often noticed at the wedding ceremony the hi ide is always much more composed than tho bridegroom.’ Doing launched into tho discussion, Delphino’s next blow at the masculine sex was this ‘ One phase of the question has frequently occurred to me—does the higher education unfit men for marriage?’

Marsac shook hi./liead, unable to find an answer to this proposition, which, lie frankly acknowledged, had never before presented itself to him.

Fontaine and Clare had listened to this in silence, but the furtive looks exchanged between ’ih-mi showed a silent protest against it. mi 1 a!.->) a very deep interest in each other. Old Duval laughed at the discussion between Marsac and Delphine, and then they gathered around the table to have a glass of champagne while waiting for the carriage. Doth the young men urged M. Duval and the young ladies to partake of what Marsac called their frugal supper, and M. Duval chuckled at tho idea of such frugality while declining it. The young people talked gayly together whilo sipping the champagne, and blessed tho coachman for taking so loDg to bring another carriage. Marsac and Delphine seemed to find it impossible to got away from tho ques-

tion of marriage, although they tried to outdo one another in railing at it. Delphine declared that a woman should keep her eyes open at the moment of marrying even the best of men, and Marsac recommended that she should keep her eyes half shut ever afterward. Clare charmed Fontaine by saying sweetly after this ‘ I should scorn to watch tho man I married. I should want to have every confidence in him.’ ‘Then, mademoiselle, you would need to kill him immediately after the ceremony,’ replied Marsac. Then the conversation turned on Uncle Maurice. Aiarsae and Fontaine had a number of ready made anecdotes respecting tho old man and his honourable career in New York, which they told with gravity and effect. Marsac declared that lie felt like going in mourning himself, so grateful was he for what Uncle Maurice had dime for Fontaine, while Fontaine, with perfect truth, said he thought more of his Uncle Maurice than of any relative he had in the world. And every moment passed in each other’s society drew these four young hearts closer together -Fontaine and Clare willingly, and Marsac and Delphine loudly protesting and abusing the emotions that, just born in their hearts, yet grew like Jon ill’s gourd. At last, however, this accidental half-hour, which brought so much happiness to Fontaine and Clare and turned the world topsy-turvy for Aiarsae and Delphine, came to an end. The carriage was reported, and tho Duval party rose to go, after the two young men had reiterated their promise to dine on the Saturday at Pussy, old Duval saying—- ‘ Of course it is most kind of you to come to us, with all your engagements with marshals and dukes and princes, but (with a significant look at Aiarsae) some of those titled people you want to keep at long range.’

‘ Especially the Prince do Landais and tho Baroness Selnnid,’ boldly responded Marsac. Tho door was open and the Duvals were going out after saying good-bye for the tenth time, when the two young men saw coming up the stairs the compact figure and shrewd face of Maurepas, their editor-in-chief. Ho met old Duval face to face on the landing. ‘ Delighted to see you, AI. Duval,’ cried Maurepas. ‘ I was going to see you to-mor-row, but if you will pardon a busy man for introducing business, just let me ask you to give me the refusal of that villa you have at Melun until I can get to see you ’ ‘ Sorry to disappoint you, but it is the day after the ball. 1 have just in eifeet sold it to AL Fontaine,’ replied Al. Duval, going on downstairs. Maurepas entered the room with tho air of a chagrined man, and, throwing down his hut, said crossly — ‘ So, Fontaine, that newspaper story is true, and you have come into a great fortune ?’ ‘ Not so very great,’ answered Fontaine, modestly; ‘only a couple of million francs.’ ‘ Oh, Lord!’ sniffed Maurepas, ‘how our ideas have expanded I Well, lam glad your old uncle cut up so handsomely.’ ‘ AL. Maurepas,’ said Marsac, severely, ‘ I beg you will at least respect Fontaine’s mourning attire. It is exceedingly painful to us to have Al. Maurice Fontaine's death alluded to in that flippant and heartless manner.’

AL Maurepas sniffed louder than ever, but did not pursue the objectionable subject, ‘ Well,’ be said, ‘ 1 suppose Fontaine will give up journalism now?’ ‘ I don’t know,’ responded Fontaine, dubiously. 1 1 always liked my profession.’ ‘ln that ease,’ replied Maurepas, ‘I will make you an offer. I know what you ean do.’ Fontaine could not forbear remarking—- ‘ You used to say I couldn’t do anything.’ ‘My dear fellow,’ answered Maurepas, coolly, ‘ that was before you were talked about. Now, as the most-talkcd-about young man in Paris, your name is worth something to a newspaper, even if your ideas are not. I will make you Ibis proposition: If you will give La Liu is three signed articles a week, of a thousand words each, 1 will give you 500 francs a week. I make but one stipulati in your name must be signed to them, but Marsac must write them.’

Fontaine hesitated for a moment, but Alarsac answered for him —• ‘ Done.’

‘ And another thing. There is to ho a groat journalists’ dinner given or. the 17th, an! I want you when called upon to make a speech in the name of the younger members of tho staff of La Limn.’ 1 1 couldn’t! I wouldn’t! I never mado a speech iu my life !’ ‘ Dut you could. What’s tho matter with Aiarsae composing the speech and you delivering it?’ 1 None in Ihe world,’ answered Marsac, laughing. ‘So you can put him down for the 17th.’

‘ And now about the Alolun villa,’ continued Maurepas, after making a memorandum in his notebook. ‘ 1 dare not go home to iriv wife without the promise of that place. I told her I would see M. Duval to-day, bat I forgot it. T don’t know what you paid fur it, but 1 will give von HMJiOH francs for i! ’ The prospect of making a clear 10.000 francs delighted Fontaine so that ho could not speak for a moment, when, catching Alarsac’s eyes fixed upon him, fie understood the signal and gave an evasive answer, which Maurepas pooh-poohed. Aiarsae then interfered.

‘ The fact is,’ lie sat i, with liis m st candil manner, ‘ I am agair.st you there, AI. Mauro;>as. I want Fontaine to keep the villa. Ho wants to buy a great hotel on the Avenuo d’Alma for 750,000 francs. I tell him it is much too expensive for him, and I don’t think liis Uncle Maurice would have approved of it,.’

Fontaine had never heard of tho Avenue d’Alma house, but lie assented promptly. Maurepas, however, saw they were trying to get a good price out of him, and, being really anxious for the villa, ho cut short tho discussion about the Avenuo d’Alma hoimo by offering 110,000 francs for tho villa. Fontaine, dying to accept, glanced at Marsac, who began to whistle softly. Maurepas, grown moro eager, jumped liis bid immediately to 120,000 francs. Fontaine thought Aiarsae crazy when ho rose, buttoned his coat, and said

‘ Dray oxeuxo us, AL Maurepas, we have an engagement at a little supper to-night at tho Archbishop’s —quito an informal little affair.’

‘A hundred and thirty thousand franca!’ criod Maurepas. ‘lam a great fool, but ’ Marsac handed Fontaine’s crape-covered hat to him.

‘ A hundred and forty thousand for the villa, and may tho devil take it!’ said Maurepas, in desperation. ‘ No,’ joyfully shouted Fontaine, who saw acquiescence in Aiarsae’s eye, ‘ I’ll take it!’ ‘ Make ono condition, my dear fellow,’ said Marsac earnestly to Fontaine. ‘ If you will

bo such a fool as to sell the villa, make M. Maurepas promise you not to mention the price to M. Duval. The old gentleman thought he was selling it to you for a mero EOhg, and ho will never forgive you if lie finds out you resold it immediately at so small an advance.’ ‘ Yes, yes,’ said Fontaine, and Maurepas, who was making out a little memorandum of the transaction, added readily, ‘ ies, yes ; I will not mention it.’ ‘ Stop !’ cried Marsac. l lt would be as well to tell M. Duval that Fontaine got a largo advance on it; that will reconcile o'd Duval to his selling it.’ ‘ I’ll toll the old fellow anything you like, only sign this little memorandum, Fontaine, and you can pass the papers over directly"to mo as soon as you get them. And if you will take a cheque to bind the bargain ’ Fontaine could scarcely refrain from hugging the editor on the spot, but, obeying a telegraphic signal from Marsac, he merely said—

‘lfit is any inconvenience to you ’ 1 It is not the slightest, and it will please my wife to know it is settled,’ answered Maurepas, taking out a cheque book and rapidly writing a check for 20,000 francs. . In ten minutes the informal but binding agreement was made and signed, Maurepas took his departure, and Fontaine and Marsac left alone, sat looking intently at each other and simply stunned by their good fortune. Marsac, finding words unable to express his rapture, suddenly turned a double bandspring over the sofa, wiicn Fontair -wishing up to him, hugged and kissed him \ k/icntlv. After this they stood grasping each other for live minutes, when Marsac’s countenance, losing its rapturous expression, became suddenly grave. ‘Fontaine, this is bliss; but toll mo one thing—What is that singular sensation that. I felt the instant my eyes rested on Delphine? I feel it now. It is most peculiar and penetrating, and, although agitating, rot unpleasant.’ 1 Love, you idiot!’

‘ You alarm me,’ said Marsac, anxiously, 1 Tell me it is something loss dangerous - locomotor ataxia, insanity, softening of the brain.’

1 1 tell you that you aro in love with Delphino, just as I am in love with my sweet Claro. But, Marsac—2o,(WO francs in hand, 30,000 more coming, 40,000 francs profit each from tho brewery shares wo can now buy, 1000 francs for a picture, a play placed, clothes enough for two years! Hurrah for Uncle Maurice!’ ‘Hurrah! hurrah! lmrrah for Uncle Maurice!’ shouted Marsac, capering wildly about. Fontaine ran and opened the closet door and let out tho two ballet girls, who had gone to sleep. He pulled them out and began dancing gayly with them, while Marsac, finding Mine. Schmid at the keyhole, listening, dragged her in out of the corridor and, seizing her around tho waist, began to waltz furiously, both of tlr-m hurrahing for Uncle Maurice at tho top of their lungs and singing doggerel verses, made up as they danced, and all ending with a joyous refrain of — ‘ Houp la! for Uncle Maurice !’ (To be continued.)