Henri at last departed, and was ten miles from Verny before he could comprehend how he had summoned up resolution enough to leave it.  Louise, shut up in her little room, was weeping bitterly, and felt no inclination to go out, since she could no longer meet Henri; but, in a short time, both of them, without feeling less regret, bethought themselves of making the wearisome interval useful to their future prospects.

During the first eighteen months, he travelled about from town to town; but at last, in Lyons, made an engagement with a person who had a very extensive business, of the name of Gerval, for the remaining period.  His master preferred cards and the bottle to work, and finding Henri honest and attentive, was anxious to retain him in his situation.  He had a daughter, named Annette, a quick, lively, and fascinating girl, who seemed rather disposed to coquet with Henri, and was somewhat frequently in the workshop with him.  Gerval observed, and by no means discouraged, this, thinking that, even after all, his assistant would become neither a bad partner for Annette nor himself; and that their intercourse, at all events, would keep away Louis, a former workman, who had affected a great regard for his daughter, but possessed very little inclination to use the saw or the plane.  All this attention was very delightful to Henri, particularly as it proceeded from so interesting a creature as his present companion.  Are, then, Verny and the sorrowful Louise quite forgotten?  It must be confessed, that they almost escaped his memory, when thus employed with Annette; but, to do him justice, in the solitude of his chamber he experienced feelings almost akin to remorse; often in his dreams did he behold Louise, ever tender, ever affectionate, as in their infancy; this vision was recalled when he awoke, and he arose, vowing that she should never have a rival in his heart:  but Henri was young, Louise two hundred miles off, and Annette only two steps.

Gerval, to keep away all aspirants, gave it out that they were betrothed, and especially informed Louis, the dismissed swain, of this agreement, who, in consequence thereof, immediately left Lyons.  Henri’s time, meanwhile, was passing away; he had received some very tender letters from Louise, and had written to her, but less frequently than he would have done if Annette had not occupied his leisure hours.  Having, however, received no intelligence from Verny for more than three months, he began to be disquieted, and determined to leave Gerval, notwithstanding all Annette’s attractions.  To be sure, he had found her very pretty and agreeable—­he had romped and flirted with her—­but had never, for a moment, thought of marrying her, and had, strictly speaking, been faithful to Louise.  Judge then of his surprise, when, one night, Gerval returned home half-drunk, and asked them, if they were not beginning to think of the wedding.  Annette threw herself into her father’s arms; Henri, pale