Modeste Mignon is of high birth, and Mongenod has just told me that her father, the Comte de La Bastie, has something like six millions.

The father is here now, and I have asked him through Mongenod for an interview at two o'clock.

Mongenod is to give him a hint, just a word, that it concerns the happiness of his daughter.

But you will readily understand that before seeing the father I feel I ought to make a clean breast of it to you." "Among the plants whose flowers bloom in the sunshine of fame," said Canalis, impressively, "there is one, and the most magnificent, which bears like the orange-tree a golden fruit amid the mingled perfumes of beauty and of mind; a lovely plant, a true tenderness, a perfect bliss, and--it eludes me." Canalis looked at the carpet that Ernest might not read his eyes.

"Could I," he continued after a pause to regain his self-possession, "how could I have divined that flower from a pretty sheet of perfumed paper, that true heart, that young girl, that woman in whom love wears the livery of flattery, who loves us for ourselves, who offers us felicity?
It needed but an angel or a demon to perceive her; and what am I but the ambitious head of a Court of Claims! Ah, my friend, fame makes us the target of a thousand arrows.