yet unknown, had grievously sobered him.  He was indignant at Reine’s duplicity, and Claudet’s cowardly resignation.  The agony caused by Claudet’s betrothal was a matter of course, but this love-for-a-stranger episode was an unexpected and mortal wound.  He was seized with violent fits of rage; he was sometimes tempted to go and reproach the young girl with what he called her breach of faith, and then go and throw himself at her feet and avow his own passion.

But the mistrust he had of himself, and his incurable bashfulness, invariably prevented these heroic resolutions from being carried out.  He had so long cultivated a habit of minute, fatiguing criticism upon every inward emotion that he had almost incapacitated himself for vigorous action.

He was in this condition when Claudet came in upon him.  At the noise of the opening door, Julien raised his head, and looked dolefully at his cousin.

“Well?” said he, languidly.

“Well!” retorted Claudet, bravely, “on thinking over what has been happening during the last month, I have made sure of one thing of which I was doubtful.”

“Of what were you doubtful?” returned de Buxieres, quite ready to take offence at the answer.

“I am about to tell you.  Do you remember the first conversation we had together concerning Reine?  You spoke of her with so much earnestness that I then suspected you of being in love with her.”

“I—­I—­hardly remember,” faltered Julien, coloring.

“In that case, my memory is better than yours, Monsieur de Buxieres.  To-day, my suspicions have become certainties.  You are in love with Reine Vincart!”

“I?” faintly protested his cousin.

“Don’t deny it, but rather, give me your confidence; you will not be sorry for it.  You love Reine, and have loved her for a long while.  You have succeeded in hiding it from me because it is hard for you to unbosom yourself; but, yesterday, I saw it quite plainly.  You dare not affirm the contrary!”

Julien, greatly agitated, had hidden his face in his hands.  After a moment’s silence, he replied, defiantly:  “Well, and supposing it is so?  What is the use of talking about it, since Reine’s affections are placed elsewhere?”

“Oh! that’s another matter.  Reine has declined to have me, and I really think she has some other affair in her head.  Yet, to confess the truth, the clerk at the iron-works was a lover of my own imagining; she never thought of him.”

“Then why did you tell such a lie?” cried Julien, impetuously.

“Because I thought I would plead the lie to get at the truth.  Forgive me for having made use of this old trick to put you on the right track.  It wasn’t such a bad idea, for I succeeded in finding out what you took so much pains to hide from me.”

“To hide from you?  Yes, I did wish to hide it from you.  Wasn’t that right, since I was convinced that Reine loved you?” exclaimed Julien, in an almost stifled voice, as if the avowal were choking him.  “I have always thought it idle to parade one’s feelings before those who do not care about them.”