“Poor Camille!” sighed Josephine the just.

“Oh, dear, yes! poor Camille! who has the power to make us all miserable, and who does it, and will go on doing it until he is happy himself.”

“Ah! would to Heaven I could make him as happy as he deserves to be.”

“You could easily make him much happier than that.  And why not do it?”

“O Rose,” said Josephine, shocked, “how can you advise me so?”

She then asked her if she thought it possible that Camille could be ignorant of her heart.

“Josephine,” replied Rose, angrily, “these men are absurd:  they believe only what they see.  I have done what I can for you and Camille, but it is useless.  Would you have him believe you love him, you must yourself be kind to him; and it would be a charitable action:  you would make four unhappy people happy, or, at least, put them on the road; now they are off the road, and, by what I have seen to-day, I think, if we go on so much longer, it will be too late to try to return.  Come, Josephine, for my sake!  Let me go and tell him you will consent—­to all our happinesses.  There, the crime is mine.”  And she ran off in spite of Josephine’s faint and hypocritical entreaties.  She returns the next minute looking all aghast.  “It is too late,” said she.  “He is going away.  I am sure he is, for he is packing up his things to go.  I spied through the old place and saw him.  He was sighing like a furnace as he strapped his portmanteau.  I hate him, of course, but I was sorry for him.  I could not help being.  He sighed so all the time, piteously.”

Josephine turned pale, and lifted her hands in surprise and dismay.

“Depend on it, Josephine, we are wrong,” said Rose, firmly:  “these wretches will not stand our nonsense above a certain time:  they are not such fools.  We are mismanaging:  one gone, the other going; both losing faith in us.”

Josephine’s color returned to her cheek, and then mounted high.  Presently she smiled, a smile full of conscious power and furtive complacency, and said quietly, “He will not go.”

Rose was pleased, but not surprised, to hear her sister speak so confidently, for she knew her power over Camille.  “That is right,” said she, “go to him, and say two honest words:  ‘I bid you stay.’”

“O Rose! no!”

“Poltroon!  You know he would go down on his knees, and stay directly.”

“No:  I should blush all my life before you and him.  I could not.  I should let him go sooner, almost.  Oh, no!  I will never ask a man to stay who wishes to leave me.  But just you go to him, and say Madame Raynal is going to take a little walk:  will he do her the honor to be her companion?  Not a word more, if you love me.”

“I’ll go.  Hypocrite!”

Josephine received Camille with a bright smile.  She seemed in unusually good spirits, and overflowing with kindness and innocent affection.  On this his high gloomy brow relaxed, and all his prospects brightened as by magic.  Then she communicated to him a number of little plans for next week and the week after.  Among the rest he was to go with her and Rose to Frejus.  “Such a sweet place:  I want to show it you.  You will come?”