two persons to live together without bitterness.  Perhaps I should not have towards him the forbearance a wife owes to her husband; I should then be a trial to him.  Pray cease to think of an alliance of which I count myself quite unworthy, and which I fell I can decline without pain to you; for with the great advantages you name to me, you cannot fail to find some girl of better station, more wealth, and more beauty than mine.”

“Will you swear to me,” said Zelie, “to prevent these young men from taking that journey and fighting that duel?”

“It will be, I foresee, the greatest sacrifice that Monsieur de Portenduere can make to me, but I shall tell him that my bridal crown must have no blood upon it.”

“Well, I thank you, cousin, and I can only hope you will be happy.”

“And I, madame, sincerely wish that you may realize all your expectations for the future of your son.”

These words struck a chill to the heart of the mother, who suddenly remembered the predictions of Ursula’s last dream; she stood still, her small eyes fixed on Ursula’s face, so white, so pure, so beautiful in her mourning dress, for Ursula had risen too to hasten her so-called cousin’s departure.

“Do you believe in dreams?” said Zelie.

“I suffer from them too much not to do so.”

“But if you do—­” began Zelie.

“Adieu, madame,” exclaimed Ursula, bowing to Madame Minoret as she heard the abbe’s entering step.

The priest was surprised to find Madame Minoret with Ursula.  The uneasiness depicted on the thin and wrinkled face of the former post mistress induced him to take note of the two women.

“Do you believe in spirits?” Zelie asked him.

“What do you believe in?” he answered, smiling.

“They are all sly,” thought Zelie,—­“every one of them!  They want to deceive us.  That old priest and the old justice and that young scamp Savinien have got some plan in their heads.  Dreams! no more dreams than there are hairs on the palm of my hand.”

With two stiff, curt bows she left the room.

“I know why Savinien went to Fontainebleau,” said Ursula to the abbe, telling him about the duel and begging him to use his influence to prevent it.

“Did Madame Minoret offer you her son’s hand?” asked the abbe.

“Yes.”

“Minoret has no doubt confessed his crime to her,” added the priest.

Monsieur Bongrand, who came in at this moment, was told of the step taken by Zelie, whose hatred to Ursula was well known to him.  He looked at the abbe as if to say:  “Come out, I want to speak to you of Ursula without her hearing me.”

“Savinien must be told that you refused eighty thousand francs a year and the dandy of Nemours,” he said aloud.

“Is it, then, a sacrifice?” she answered, laughing.  “Are there sacrifices when one truly loves?  Is it any merit to refuse the son of a man we all despise?  Others may make virtues of their dislikes, but that ought not to be the morality of a girl brought up by a de Jordy, and the abbe, and my dear godfather,” she said, looking up at his portrait.