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this disease is consequent upon the impossibility of knowing what is really the matter in its early stages, when treatment is alone useful. In regular outbreaks of the disease the physician is led to suspect the evil in the beginning, and then it can be cut short by destroying and expelling the parent worms before they have had time to colonize the intestines with their young. But at the commencement of an outbreak, or in isolated cases, the symptoms are too like those of gastric fever to lead to a suspicion of

the real nature of the affection.

Prevention is far better than cure, and happily this can be easily accomplished. As pork is the only means by which the parasite can enter the human frame, we have only to take care that we eat it thoroughly cooked.

The Englishman has a very strong prejudice in favor of doing his leg of pork well, however much he like beef and mutton underdone. The Germans may are apt to suffer desperate outbreaks of this disease because they are fond of smoked sausages, in which no heat is applied to the meat. The severity of the infection depends indeed upon the amount of cooking to which the trichinous meat has been subjected, and the order in which it is affected is as follows: : raw meat, smoked sausages, cervelat sausages, raw smoked ham, raw smoked sausage, fried sausage, fried meat-balls, brawn, pickled pork, blood sausage, boiled pork. As few people are likely to eat raw pork, there seems little danger to be apprehended from the most dangerous item in the list; but it is well to know that boiled pork is in all cases the most harmless.

The power of the worm to resist heat and cold is very remarkable. They have been frozen to five degrees below centigrade, and have been thawed to life again. Ordinary vermifuges are powerless against them, their vitality is as great as the wheelworm, which seems almost indestructible. Let our friends, then, take care never to touch the smallest portion of underdone pork, and beware of German sausages, polonies, and things of the same kind, as they would beware of an assassin.

Before the discovery of the new disease, trichiniasis, several epidemics occurred in Germany, which very much puzzled the physicians.

In two or three cases it was supposed that the persons suffering had been poisoned in some mysterious manner, and judicial inquiries were instituted without any result. More generally, however, the outbreaks were ascribed to rheumatic fever, or typhus fever. It was observed at the time of their occurrence that the outbreaks were confined to particular families, regiments, or villages.

The symptoms, then obscure, are now recognized as those of trichiniasis; indeed, there seems to be little doubt that they were outbreaks of this disorder. They all occurred in the spring of the year, the time of pig-sticking in Germany, and the very characteristic swelling of the face, in the absence of any kidney disease, was observed.

The mortality arising from this disease is in direct ratio of the severity of the attack, and this depends upon the number of worms which may chance to be introduced into the body. One pig is sufficient to cause an epidemic far and wide; indeed, many of those which have ravaged Germany within these last three or four years have been traced to one trichinous pig.

eight infected; at Hettstädt, where one trichinous pig infected one hundred and fifty-eight persons, twenty-eight died. From these facts the formidable nature of the infection may be gathered.

If sudden epidemics can be traced to the action of an obscure worm, may we not hope that many of our disorders, now obscure in their origin, and consequently unmanageable and incurable, will in time come to light, and be amenable to treatment? Possibly some more subtle power even than the microscope will be discovered, and give us the power of scrutinizing diseased conditions, and finding out the agents so stealthily at work in bringing the human machine to misery and premature death.

TURNING THE TABLES.

[Translated for EVERY SATURDAY from the Revue Française.]

I.

I

THE personages of this bit of wire-drawing are the usual ones of a comic stage; namely, a lover and two women, one a coquette, the other not one. shall have nothing to do with fathers, uncles, tutors; but, without knowing what is to come of it all, I just take my stand at the side-scenes. As for the comical valets, who add spice to such things, and the pretty little female go-betweens, who are usually at the bottom of all such intrigues, I don't know whether I shall leave anything for them to do or not; for I am one of those who write without any definite plan.

The action takes place in our day, somewhere near Paris, at Marly or at Meudon, just as you please; and you will be spared a description. The scenery is simple, -a summer apartment on the ground floor, opening through a conservatory or glazed gallery on a garden.

The hour, eleven in the morning. M. Hector, our lover, has been waiting some minutes for Camille and Cécile, his two cousins, coquette and otherwise. He has just come from Paris, expressly to see them and take advantage of the absence of his uncle, General Flavy, the father of Camille, to plan some little scheme of revenge for the scoffs and railleries with which these ladies had always treated him. M. Hector was neither short nor tall, ugly nor handsome, dark nor fair; nevertheless his manners were notable, and marked the man of the world. There was a time when the frequenters of the Boulevard des Italiens were called beaux, lions, and what not, which had some meaning in it; but we have not any equivalent for these phrases now-a-days. For want of a better word, I should call M. Hector de Sévigny un viveur de bon ton. He had decided suddenly to temper this somewhat eccentric mode of life with a little reason, and take to himself a wife. The fine project sprung up one night, and was now somewhat advanced, but was still all a mystery to the world and to his cousins, whom he had seen little of since they had gone into the country. Their very ignorance of him was what he was determined upon taking advantage of, to give a finishing stroke of glorious gallantry to his bachelor career.

"I am determined," said he to himself, "that this day shall find me loved, longed for, and adored by these cousins of mine; and when it comes about that this coquette Camille, who makes such a pretence of the invulnerability of her heart, and this nonchalant Cécile - pretty Creole she is, by my faith! At the outbreak at Planen one person died out only who could be graceful and so heavy?-get of thirty attacked. At Calbe, where the epidemic thoroughly enamored of me, then 's my time to inwas more severe, seven persons died out of thirty-vite them to my wedding! That will be a victory

for me worth having; and what a downfall for them!"

What's going to come out of this fine plan, and who is going to be victor in this game of wits, — that's what you are going to hear.

II.

Ir is necessary to present to my reader these two ladies, upon whom so much is to depend, before going on with this story.

Mme. Camille Damberg, a young widow of twenty, with Italian features, and of the particular Roman type beside, with a Parisian heart, was rich even to millions, lively, and coquette all over; indeed, a veritable queen of the salons.

Mlle. Cécile d'Harville was seventeen, fair as Mother Eve, curious, ignorant, - -as Eve was before she tasted the fatal apple.

Suddenly the door opened, and the pretty face of Mme. Camille Damberg showed itself.

"O my cousin!" she murmured, and shaking a finger at him. "Look out, Monseigneur Don Juan, I'll read you a lesson

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But the rustle of her silk, or some perfume about her, may be, had already betrayed her presence, and Hector, rushing toward her, kissed her on both hands.

"How kind it is of you to come here and surprise us in our hermitage," said Camille.

"A hermitage! How? am I who come for a breakfast to get an anchorite's fare?"

"You can't expect much more in the country, you know."

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So, so, you think you are going to frighten me; but you won't do it this time, let me assure you." "Would you, then, be a Spartan ?"

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"Not at all, but the contrary," replied Hector, with vivacity," and my calculation proves "Well, let us see," interrupted the curious Ca

mille.

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"You will find me very impertinent," said he. "I have just discovered

"What then?" asked Camille with spirit, who, like Hector, would conceal her vengeful motives.

"That this is but my absolute opinion; that you are charming, adorable, and that there is no other happiness but in being with you."

In making this protestation, Hector drew near and took her hand; but she quickly withdrew it, as she thought that the butterfly was going to destroy itself in the flame. Then smiling, so as to show her dear little pearls, she asked Hector how many women he had already said that to.

The young man regained his playful tone, and replied, "I can't say exactly; but you have heard such things quite as often as I have ever said them; though, unhappily, your heart is too like a diamond, or some other precious stone, to be easily melted."

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"Without doubt. Let us see, if Diogenes-" "Good for Diogenes!" cried Camille.

"Hear me out," replied Hector. "If Diogenes had found immediately what he was looking for, he would not have searched all his life."

"How's that?" asked Camille, curious to discover what Hector was coming at.

"Never mind. The past is past, dear cousin, and the present is our only care; and quite enough for happiness, when one can take it easy." Hector said this with such an air of sincerity, that Camille was all the more troubled. "That's singular language,” she thought, "I have never doubted that" but coquetry silenced her heart.

"You have fashioned that at your ease," said she; "for in point of sentiment, Hector, it always seems to me that the past had neither the guaranty of the present nor the future, and your past

"My past!" interrupted Hector, "my past is assuredly a voucher for my sincerity." Then, fearing he had gone too far in thus laying himself open to Camille, he added, "If you can have any interest to

doubt it -"

"That seems to me paradoxical in the highest degree; but as you speak it decidedly, let me tell you I am quite indifferent."

Then came a silence, that of embarrassment. Then she spoke. "Let us talk of other things. What's going on in Paris?"

"In Paris?" said Hector, coming out of his revery. "O, people draggle and soak; talk horse at the club, bet at the races: in fine, they amuse themselves prodigiously."

"That must be very diverting," said Camille, in a reproachful tone, which was significant to Hector. "Now I understand your rare visits. But have you taken to the course?"

"Me! No, not that I know of," said he, indifferently. "I wagered

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"And lost, without doubt ?," "Not at all."

"Won then?"

"Not in the least."

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Well, this is hard to understand."

"Easy enough, and quite amusing," said Hector, smiling: "it is a way I have,-nothing miraculous about it, I assure you. I bet a hundred louis on Monarque or Arabella; then I make things square by betting just the same on his competitor. That is my style of recklessness; and, what is more, it is a very convenient excuse for putting a pleasant or sad face upon matters, just as I may fancy to think of the half I gained or the half I lost. Besides, quite an original idea, is n't it? for, since women have taken to betting, it seems rather unhandsome to win their money;- better keep out of it."

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How," cried Camille, "women! what women?" "O, fine ones, to be sure."

"Ah, you laugh. This is a likely story!" "Exactly, but it is the truth; and it would be well for truth, if she had a little common sense." "How? what's that? But come, tell me if this fine sort of people run steeple-chases.”

"Patience! you shall see."

"Ah, M. de Sévigny, you mock me. Tell me, now, if it does compromise certain women," (she was pressing the matter intentionally,) "as without doubt you know."

Every Saturday, May 5, 1806.]

TURNING THE TABLES.

"Tell me how I should know anything of it in the past," replied Hector, contritely.

"O, you good apostle! Look out. To defend one's self without accusation is almost to own the crime."

Hector smiled. "With you, who are sheltered from all the petty errors of the heart, one can well admit this sort of thing. Doubtless the example of certain ladies whom you have designated has given the sign of this unbridled luxury. I use the expression that fine ladies are ambitious of employing."

"Oh!" exclaimed Camille.

"Faith! yes," cried Hector, "the word is low. They say all manner of bad things of these ladies; and no one has anything more attractive to do than They do not deserve, believe to imitate them. me, either this excess of indignation or of honor. The most part, I assure you, have great airs, and a grand tone; but it all has a sign it would be well Why follow in their footsteps? to leave to them. Is it, then, in the hope of denying them some butterflies who would burn their wings? It is at once imprudent and impolitic. For, in fine, when there are young idlers in a fair way to waste their time, and spend their fortunes on these charming Madeleines, you will allow, dear cousin, that they are only after same easy amour, and know their own impotence in the presence of a delicate sense of genuine love. Such is it that renders the contest with a true woman so completely unequal, and even dangerous."

The young woman showed evidence of incredulity. "You doubt," continued Hector, "but it is truly that one of the rare virtues, which has a power of its own to-day. These seducers, who run up a list of amours with any seriousness of passion, are just the merest inventions of the penny journalists. These debauchees, riddled with debts, Don Juans of the Café Anglais and of the Maison Dorée, dandies all hair, are only interlopers in good society. Cut off such excrescences, and you get rid of such swaggering vices, and you have a young generation, wellbred, neither too lively nor too sedate, just fit for the world as it is, filling the right place in the salon, and just as capable of becoming good husbands and good papas as the most virtuous of -"

"O, it is not necessary to have a reason for
everything," said Camille, reddening a little.
"You don't speak your thoughts, Camille."
Hold,
"That is always true with seeming confidences,"
and the young woman reddened more.
Hector, were I a-coquette," and she never was
more one,-"I should take your talk for a dec-
laration."

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"Then," said he, eagerly, "I pray for such a "What folly!" replied Camille, sighing. "How But I coquetry as would serve me so well." can I believe that you came here to know: wait till Cécile comes; she is the one doubtless that you-"

Hector did not stay for the finishing of the sena child!" tence, but cried, "O Madame, how could you think it! Cécile, "But she is adorably pretty, sir." "Very well." "So, jealous!" thought Hector. Then thinking that Cécile might indeed make a somewhat inopportune appearance, and that he had yet considerable to do to complete his conquest of Camille, he proposed a walk in the garden. The plan was too nearly her own not to be accepted eagerly.

"Let us continue our talk, Madame, for I see that to convince you I have still much to tell you. Will you take my arm?"

"Gladly."

"I shall be happy if this delicious contact does something for my suit."

"You have too little confidence in your own merits, and are too modest, dear cousin."

"Is it not a trait of genuine affection not to flatter itself of success?"

"A complete metamorphosis," cried Camille, laughing.

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Laugh away; it only renders you the more charming."

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Upon my word, I won't listen to a word more, Hector"; and so, quitting his arm, she went to a bell-pull and rung.

III.

AFTER all, the author must introduce his amusing valet. Call him Jobin, and let us suppose he is "another Sosie of the actor Priston, at the Palais Royal. You can fancy the nasal, drawling voice, the great, stupid eyes, and the dumfounded look of our new personage.

"So be it;-but the women do bet at the races"Certainly they do; but, nevertheless, they have another mission than that to fill. Finally one goes to the Bois de Boulogne, and it is not the less amusing without doubt; but it is very futile, when one looks there in vain -"

"For what?" asked the curious Camille. "For the very thing you can't find in the salon." The other thought that here at last was something ingenuous and serious; and so she looked at "Is it that Hector out of the corner of her eye. "What he is indeed a cousin?" said she to herself. heart! what delicacy! In faith, I have misjudged him." Hector made the same reflections on his part. Camille, wishing to push matters, said, "So you sought for

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"Yes, what Diogenes did, and I am afraid"Away with you, for a trivial, inconstant "It is exactly this inconstancy, which, leaving the heart so completely void, makes more sensible a sincere affection undisguised to all." An affection born so quickly "O, take care! is not the thing; and there is often the uttermost indifference under the mask."

"Plague on you, cousin, for a piece of subtlety! And how do you know?"

"My parasol," said Camille to the valet when he answered the bell. Meanwhile Hector was contemplating the charming widow in a mirror that reflect"She is adorable, and I have not "She is more dangerous ed all her graces. found it out," he thought. than I had any idea of. What life! what grace! and just the degree of coquetry to render her adorable. Where have my eyes been?"

Meanwhile Camille, a little dreamy, was deciding that her cousin had never before seemed quite as he self- a week earlier. did now; that he would have endangered even her

Jobin entered with the parasol.

"Come, Hector," said the lady. And he hastened to offer his arm; when they soon disappeared among the linden shades of the garden alleys, where the clematis and the ivy-grape grew.

Jobin, flattening his nose against a pane in the glass-gallery, followed them with a curious eye, and delivered himself in this wise: "M. de Sévigny and Madame seem very well content with one another to-day. After all, once is not always; and, as the

-

doctor says, kings have wooed shepherdesses; but deed a woman. Here I am a child who can do Madame is not a shepherdess of Nanterre, and M. nothing at these things. But they will see, neverHector is no king of Longchamps. Hector! There's theless." Some vague disturbance came upon her. nothing like fellowship on the turf to beget intimacy." But this is perhaps a wrong I am going to comThe Bourse can do great things!" He took an eye- mit, just on the verge of O, should anybody glass from the pocket of his red waistcoat, and tried know it! Very well, I will return to my dear colto fasten it under his brow. "When Madame rung ony, for there, at least, I am a sovereign without I was coming to tell this dear friend-there you have rival: my caprices are my orders; my fantasies, it fine- that Mlle. Cécile begged him to wait in the laws, which find none to disobey them." salon till she had finished her toilette-there you Her cousin's voice only confirmed her resolution. have it a little better. When Mlle. is at her toi-"You are an angel," said he to Camille, “and I love lette, it is no short job; that's perfectly right! O, these fine ways! I have spent time to acquire them, as well as the superlative speech; but I have got them. What a charming creature is Mlle. Cécile, and would n't she look well 'side of me in calèche. I could love her, though, the young Creole. Madame is not bad; but then she has married once. It is growing warm out there in the garden, bless me ! Ah, Hector kissing his cousin's hand! It is n't much, but it's the right sort."

you."

"You shall find out," said Cécile, "if I am the simpleton you take me for." So she dropped back in her chair with the most indifferent air.

IV.

ON re-entering the room, Hector had the air of a conqueror, and Camille was radiant. "A complete triumph," she whispered to Cécile, embracing her; then turning to the young man, What say you to our flowers, dear cousin,- to those of Cécile above all? for it is to her that we owe a part of this collection."

So the valet Jobin, enchanted with his own wit," his person, and his ability to keep his eye-glass in place according to the mode, twirled about on his right foot, and found himself face to face with Cécile just entering the room, and laughing violently over the funny object before her.

"Well, Master Jobin, these are manners! Eh! goodness gracious, a quizzing-glass too! Well, hand me a book," said she, as she threw herself into an easy-chair. The book lay upon a little table quite within her reach, while Jobin searched the apartment through, and then asked where it was.

"There," replied Cécile; "don't you see it?" Jobin hastened to obey. "How lazy!" said he to himself. "Well, patience, Jobin; when you are rich, you shall make your footman read to you!" Here, sir, where is M. de Sévigny? Did you not tell him?" asked Cécile.

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"Pardon, Mademoiselle, if, that is to say, No! because Monsieur has gone into the garden with Madame Damberg, and I could not

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"Very well"; and, pointing to a tabouret close by, she added, "Jobin, place that tabouret under my feet." The valet obeyed, and thought as he left the room, that had he been she, and needed a tabouret, he would have made one of Jobin.

Cécile fell lazily back in her chair, and, closing her eyes, set to thinking. "A walk in the garden, well, that were agreeable; but then it is horrid hard work. So I stay here. Then my presence would only spoil matters, for Camille has got that impertinent fop, Hector, in hand to give him a lesson."

At this moment a silvery laugh caught her ear; she looked up, and perceived Hector and Camille just at the end of the gallery; but her indolence was too much for her curiosity.

66

"She can

Everything is right," she thought. play the coquette on him, and I could do the same. Just so; only they try to make me out a child; but I can have my turn at it too, I hope." She got up with utter nonchalance, but not without grace, and went towards the gallery. "Camille is coquette, wit, and what not, and knows just how to come off victor in all these skirmishes of the salons. As for me," and she gazed at herself in the glass with a smile full of malice and vague indications, "why, I am commonplace, indolent, lazy. Well, what matters it? no worse for that! Is there not some other means of conquest than this wit and its battles? Well, I am willing. Yonder, under the beautiful skies of the Isle of France, there I was in

"They are charming." "O, they are but poor specimens of the marvellous tropics," said Cécile. "Transplanted to our soil, they lose all their glory. A flower only flourishes where it is native."

"Nevertheless, they are not altogether worthless to such as never leave home," said Hector. "There's a gallant for you, Cécile !" said Camille.

"Bah! nonsense for country wit! and if one should give him occasion, this poor cousin of ours would make both of us believe that he adored us, singly and together."

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If I could have the pretence, I would proclaim neither my success nor my failure, but the thing would be impertinent on my part."

"So that you would not decline wholly the proposition," said Camille, a little seriously; "only in confessing that there might be some difficulty in succeeding, you wish to show your discretion,faith! it is a very nice sort of business."

"Eh? But it is not so vulgar a matter, as times go," replied Hector, opening the book which Cécile had thrown aside.

"Yes, plume yourself on your discretion," said Cécile. "Are n't you the one who would like to find out my secrets, and divine my sympathies?"

"But it is all fair play!" replied Hector. “Ah, very dangerous reading this!"

"What is it?" asked Camille. "Paul and Virginia, of sentimental memory," said Hector.

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"And you think that dangerous?" asked Cécile. Dangerous for me, certainly; for how can I stand such an eclipse?"

"Paul is dead," said Camille, "while you are "That's consoling, certainly. Paul is a dead prince and I a live shepherd." "I think you are both wrong," said Cécile. "Paul is no more dead than Virginia; both are immortal."

Hector hummed,

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TURNING THE TABLES.

It is so with all legends," said Camille. "With everything true," said Cécile. "Ladies, all opinions are respectable, even mine. I would not gainsay that masterpiece, but, alas! we are fallen upon times when we are lost, and not capable of such heavenly sentiments."

Cécile looked at him closely, and cried, "So he acknowledges he is no longer a Paul.”

"No longer a Paul!"

world that we must submit to. A husband like
Paul would be rather too rustic to-day. The world
must have a share of you. Be a Virginia in your
household, but a woman of the world, and something
you were right; outside of that, you were wrong."
of a coquette in society. In your family relations
"I understand," said Camille, "it is a Paul of
high life that would suit her; now for me!"
"You, my adorable widow, the life of the salon
and your beauty. It would indeed be a crime to keep
your sphere, fit to shine among all by your wit
you in a nest to coo eternally. You need candles
and fêtes and music and dancing. Such a flower as
of the good Bernardin. You understand, then, how
you would wither away in the bucolic atmosphere
you were wrong."

"How many such can we number?" asked Ca-is mille.

"Dear cousin, the commission charged with that statistical labor has not yet reported; but they have slipped out an indiscretion. Commissions don't do anything else—"

"True!" cried Camille; "and this indiscretion -" "Tells us of the transformation of the species Paul," said Hector, talking attentively at the two; But I'd better "and, according to these savants leave on them all the responsibility of their opinions: the women will not complain of it too much." "Women! is it possible?" cried Cécile; "but the Virginias!"

"The indiscretion of these savants has not reached that; and I don't know that they have decided upon the same transformation in the species Virginia."

"These savants seem to me very impertinent," said Camille.

"And their transformation is not encouraging," added Cécile. "The worm passes for an ugly thing, it is true; but the chrysalis is very inconstant."

"Don't believe a word of it!" cried Hector. "They are flowers without scent that incite these ugly stories."

"Bah! It is easy to see the meaning of such "It is always the last pretexts," said Camille. flower which is the most beautiful and dispenses the sweetest perfume."

"You calumniate the winged things, ladies, which pass by the beauty of the camellias to pilfer the sweets of the roses and violets."

Cécile fancied the distinction clever;- of course she did, for did not her cousin mean the violet for herself? As for Camille, she questioned if Hector did not dream of sharing these compliments, and tried to change the conversation; but Hector had a mind of his own, and hurried on,—

and you "But permit me to ask of both of you, first, my pretty Cécile, if really you have dreamed out a type of husband like this Paul here?" and he showed the book. "Certainly."

Camille appeared anxious.

"Well, Cécile," replied Hector, without seeming to suspect the young woman's bad humor, "you are right, and you are wrong."

There's explicitness for you!" said Cécile.
"And you, my charming widow?" said Hector,
turning to Camille, who no longer sulked, but said
she could not desire any greater happiness than
such an ideal.

"Very well, you are wrong."
"How so?

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"And you are right!"

The two women looked smiling at each other upon this, and asked if he were mocking them.

"I have no fancy for such impertinences," he replied; and, addressing the younger, he added, "Yes, my dear Cécile, you are right in desiring, and you fully merit, as loving a spouse and as pure a one as this; but, my pretty coz, there are exigencies in the

that

"I am ready to admit it; but how can I be at the "That is easy to show you. You and the man of same time right, my paradoxical sir?" to the exigencies; you coquette on your part, your choice are people of the world. You sacrifice fice you in the salon, and let you alone in the centre is the woman's privilege. Your husband must sacriof that circle where you are queen. But in his home life he throws off this restraint of the world, He hastens to change his lion's skin for the lamb's. and your charms no longer meet his indifference. have dreamed of. In the one case the lover should You find then for yourself that type of lover you transform himself into the man of the world; in the And this is the way, my dear Camille, after having other, the man of society gives place to the lover. been wrong, you are right."

"

All this pleased Camille much, for she took it all as proof of her coquetry's power over him. "This would be very well," said Cécile, "if one "But you choose often on could choose Hector interrupted, one side, dear ladies, and in deceiving yourself you deceive him who thinks to have divined your heart's Isible, there would be few bachelors among us." secret. Alas! if you were not so often incomprehen

Camille smiled maliciously. "How, coz! are you "Faith, this bachelor life is so monotonous. dreaming of marriage, you?" is nothing in society without bonds, without position, without serious attachment."

One

“How, you, young, rich, so elegant that others copy you," cried Cécile, "you bid farewell to that life whose praises you have so often sounded. It is beyond belief.”

ins.

Hector cast a fascinating eye upon his two cous"Ah, what would you? that one should weary himself out, till, without knowing it, he is past the some charming woman, with whom it would be sweet time for happiness; or that about him he should find to pass life, and then brave sarcasm —

That's for Camille," thought Cécile; "but I have not had my last word yet."

"And nothing remains but to make the choice," said Hector.

"Ah! you have yet to choose?" cried Camille. "Out of the indifferents!" cried Hector; "but it is not among these last that I would seek, for it seems to me necessary to have a loved one

"And lover," murmured Cécile.

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"You have finished my thought, dear Cécile, and bear in mind, that it is the end you ought to aim at; for your true lover is like a miser: it is not that he possesses a treasure, but the treasure possesses him, and you know what a lover's treasure is. Now, for all women, that kind of royalty, this satisfying of

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