"She will see whether she has chosen well." At other times, all his courage, and his hatred, and his wounded vanity, were drowned in his love and its despair, and then he bowed his head, and sobbed and cried as if his heart would burst.

One morning he was so sobbing with his head on the table, when his landlady tapped at his door.

He started up and turned his head away from the door.
"A young woman from Beaurepaire, monsieur." "From Beaurepaire ?" his heart gave a furious leap.

"Show her in." He wiped his eyes and seated himself at a table, and, all in a flutter, pretended to be the state's.
It was not Jacintha, as he expected, but the other servant.

She made a low reverence, cast a look of admiration on him, and gave him a letter.
His eye darted on it: his hand trembled as he took it.