He tried to reason about it, too: even a dull king reigns well if he have but the wit to choose good ministers; and among men, each ruling his small kingdom, they are often the most successful who possess, not many talents, but the one talent of choosing well in friendship and in love.
Ah! but it is one thing to choose and another to obtain.

Caius still felt that he dared not seek Josephine.

Since Le Maitre's death something of the first blank horror of his own guilt had passed away, but still he knew that he was not innocent.

Then, too, if he dared to woo her, what would be the result?
That last admonition and warning that he had given her when she was about to leave the island with him clogged his hope when he sought to take courage.

He knew that popular lore declared that, whether or not she acknowledged its righteousness, her woman's vanity would take arms against it.
Caius had written to Josephine a letter of common friendliness upon the occasion of her husband's death, and had received in return a brief sedate note that might, indeed, have been written by the ancient lady whom the quaint Italian handwriting learned in the country convent had at first figured to his imagination.