must certainly die within the year. On noticing this ominous fact, she therefore gave a very dismal groan, and intimated to her friends they need not have any fear, as she was certainly the doomed one. Everybody immediately sympathised with her, with the exception of Madame Miroiton, who, being a strong-minded woman, loudly asserted that this was a weakness she must overcome, and that she would not encourage her in it by sending home one of her children. Antoine Tourneur gallantly offered to absent himself, but Madame Bichonnet would not hear of it; and she at length decided that her husband should go and invite Rosine, a young bonnet-maker who lived in one of the attics, to come and share their mirth. M. Bichonnet departed on his errand, and after some time, made his appearance with Rosine; whom he had, however, found some difficulty in inducing to accompany him. Her entrance into the lodge was witnessed with anything but pleasure by Mademoiselle Ursule and the daughter of the Miroitons. The former, especially, was highly indignant: the idea of associating with a bonnet-maker seemed to her perfectly preposterous; and notwithstanding the beseeching and timid glance which the young girl cast towards her, Mademoiselle Ursule immediately set her down for an artful designing creature, and applied her scent-bottle to her nose with great contempt. Mademoiselle Miroiton was at first equally annoyed; but on noticing the paleness of the new-comer, who was, moreover, in deep mourning, she immediately made room for her near herself, concluding that the contrast would greatly enhance the brilliancy of her own complexion, and the freshness of her attire. The first impression which Rosine's appearance was calculated to produce, was not indeed to her advantage. But though she might at first be thought plain, few persons who examined her closely thought so long. Her features were not remarkably regular, but she had a profusion of fair silken tresses, which beamed like gold beneath her black crape-cap, eyes of a deep azure blue, dark eyebrows and eyelashes, and a sweet smile and pleasant voice, which rendered her at times quite fascinating, notwithstanding the languid and sickly expression her features had contracted during a life of privation and poverty. Having lost her mother a few months back, she was now an orphan; and as she was not a native of Paris, she had remained wholly friendless and alone in the great city. Fortunately for her, she found some employment in the house of a great milliner, who lived in the street; and although she had to toil almost constantly, in order to earn enough for her support, she was never heard to repine or to complain. In short,' as Madame Bichonnet observed to her guests shortly before she entered, 'she was a very nice girl indeed, whom she loved to patronise.' Immediately after Rosine's entrance, Antoine Tourneur proposed to uncork two bottles of champagne, which he had brought with him; Madame Bichonnet instantly volunteered to find the champagne glasses from the cupboard of the first-floor lodgers, who had confided her the key of their apartment whilst they were away; and Mademoiselle Ursule immediately sent out one of the young Miroitons for two dozen of those biscuits, without which, the orthodox drinkers assert, champagne cannot be drunk. In the meanwhile a good deal of talking went on in different parts of the company: M. Bichonnet, who was more than usually dignified, conversed in a mysterious tone with M. Miroiton, a simple-minded man, discussing the respective merits of Thiers and Guizot, and assuring him, in a low subdued voice, that before six months he might expect to see Louis-Philippe dethroned. On hearing this piece of intelligence, the pacific M. Miroiton looked uneasily round, and with a cough of dismay, inquired of his friend how he had learned this. M. Bichonnet gave a mysterious nod, and merely said he knew it.' 'But, my good Monsieur Bichonnet,' urged the alarmed Miroiton, I hope you have no ill-will against the king?' 'Sir,' solemnly replied Bichonnet, I entertain no evil sentiment against Louis-Philippe; fate has never thrown us together, and we have, I may say, nothing in common either in feelings or opinions; but it is my duty to my fellow-men to inform them, when the opportunity occurs, that before six months have passed over their heads, he will have ceased to sit on the throne of France.' And leaving M. Miroiton in a state of unutterable dismay, he turned from him with a mysterious glance, as though thinking that enough had been said on the subject. Whilst this political discussion was going on,. Mesdames Bichonnet and Miroiton were engaged in informing one another of the faults and merits of their respective lodgers. Madame Miroiton greatly inveighed against the avariciousness of hers; Madame Bichonnet made no similar complaints, but only lamented the want of politeness which existed in their conduct towards her. Thus, if a letter came, they insisted to have it brought up instantly; or they actually desired that Madame Bichonnet should not read their newspaper in the morning before it was sent up to them. In short, they went to such lengths, that M. and Madame Bichonnet had been compelled to draw up a little code of regulations, which was placed at the foot of the staircase for their benefit. By the first regulation, all the lodgers were requested to wipe their feet well before they went up stairs; by the second, they were recommended to keep no dogs, and not to receive visitors who were likely to be accompanied by those animals; by the third, they were informed that, on account of their portress's delicate health, they were expected never to stay out later than twelve o'clock at night. After that hour, M. and Madame Bichonnet hinted that they should lie under the painful necessity of not opening the door to them. To this regulation there was, however, affixed a N. B., by which the lodgers were told that they could be admitted even after one or two, on paying a fine of fifty centimes [5d.]. On hearing this admirable code, Madame Miroiton sighed, and only wished they could have it too; but their lodgers were so restive, they would never agree to it, and Miroiton could never be induced to propose it to them. 'We never propose those things to our lodgers,' superciliously observed Madame Bichonnet. We do them, and they submit as a matter of course.' Whilst the two portresses were thus engaged, the younger portion of the company had gathered round Antoine Tourneur, whose good-humour rendered him a general favourite. The young man who sang the comic songs, and the two ladies'-maids, whom Madame Bichonnet had invited because they were neither young nor pretty, as much as through any other motive, listened to his sallies in silence; but the Miroiton part of the family were in perfect ecstacies. Mademoiselle Ursule was too genteel to seem much amused; but as her vigilant eye noticed that though his discourse was directed towards her and Mademoiselle Miroiton, yet his glances more frequently wandered in the direction of Rosine, she began to look very superciliously on the young milliner once more, setting her down as an artful designing creature.' As somebody said something about the champagne, which had in the meanwhile been forgotten, Madame Bichonnet proposed to cut up the cake first. This was accordingly done, and Rosine, as the youngest lady present, was requested to hand it round to the company. She complied, and though somewhat embarrassed, acquitted herself of her office with much grace and modesty. Antoine was the last person to whom she handed his share of the cake, and perhaps for this reason, or perhaps because, as Mademoiselle Miroiton now began to think, he was engaged in gazing on the young milliner, he neglected to examine his portion of the cake, in order to see whether it contained the bean always inserted in it, and which renders him to whose lot it falls king for the evening. The young man who sang the comic songs immediately discovered that he had not the bean; the ladies' maids found out as much; Madame Miroiton declared she had not got it; all her children echoed the words; M. Bichonnet did not speak, not thinking it dignified; and M. Miroiton, because his mouth was full. I suppose Mademoiselle Ursule is queen?' ironically observed Mademoiselle Miroiton. I am not queen,' sharply answered the staymaker, with a tone and look which seemed to say she might have been if she would. Mademoiselle Miroiton coloured, and in a softened tone said to Antoine, 'Are you king, Monsieur Tourneur?' Antoine started, and turning his eyes from Rosine, for the first time opened his portion of the cake. No sooner had he done so, than the dark bean appeared, enshrined in the yellow crust. Immediately a loud cry of Tourneur is king! Long live the king!' resounded in the lodge. Antoine laughed, and bowing, intimated his wish of speaking; but the loyalty of his new subjects was not thus easily checked, and the Miroiton part of the company especially showed their delight by making an unusual noise. When he was at last allowed to speak, he returned thanks in a short speech, and concluded by drinking the health of all present. No sooner had he raised his glass to his lips, than the cries of The king drinks! Long live the king!' again echoed round. But when this first excitement had somewhat subsided, Antoine was requested by Madame Bichonnet to use his privilege, and name a queen for the evening. On hearing this, Mademoiselle Miroiton looked modestly on her plate, whilst Mademoiselle Ursule applied her scent-bottle to her nose. Ho, ho!' continued Madame Bichonnet, with a knowing wink, and glancing towards the spot where Mademoiselle Miroiton and the staymaker were both seated, so that it could not be known precisely to which of the two she meant to allude, I think I know who will be queen.' She paused, struck aghast with astonishment and dismay-for Antoine had, with a low bow, placed the bean in the glass of Rosine, thus proclaiming her queen for the evening. company, Ladies and gentlemen, let me hope you will drink the health of your queen.' The melancholy-looking young man who sang the comic songs immediately drank a glass of wine, first muttering something which might sound as an assent to or a protest against the toast, just as the parties were inclined; but no one else pledged Antoine. Mademoiselle Miroiton, indeed, eyed him with great contempt, yawned audibly, and looking at her mother, carelessly observed it was late enough to go home. To this Madame Miroiton assented, and rising immediately, helped her daughter to put on her cloak and bonnet-for Mademoiselle Miroiton had lately assumed this badge of distinction. It was in vain that Madame Bichonnet begged of them to stay a little longer; they smiled scornfully in reply to all her intreaties; whilst, heedless of his wife's indignant glance, M. Miroiton, determined to make the best of the little time left, hastily gulped down two or three glasses of champagne. 'Pray, do stay,' urged Madame Bichonnet. 'No, ma'am, thank you,' dryly answered Mademoiselle Miroiton. I can assure you, ma'am, we are not blind; we can see very well through your schemes, and those of other people.' 'Yes indeed we can,' echoed her mother, with a scornful toss of the head; whilst even M. Miroiton, roused at last, and having now quite done with the champagne, repeated, Ay, sir, we can,' addressing M. Bichonnet; and with his wife on one side, and his daughter on the other, stalked out of the lodge, followed by his children, and closed the street door behind him with a thundering slam. When they were gone-she would have scorned to do it before-Mademoiselle Ursule rose; and though she only opened her lips to say good-night,' the manner in which she uttered the words spoke volumes. The singer of comic songs, perceiving that his services were no longer necessary, departed, under pretence of seeing her home-she lived in the house opposite; and the two ladies'-maids took the same opportunity of saying something about their mistresses-who were both out-wanting them, and left the lodge, where only Antoine, Rosine, with the porter and his wife, now remained. After their departure, Antoine made several ineffectual attempts to create a little mirth: the Bichonnets were both dismally solemn; and Rosine, who began to fear she had been the occasion of a vast deal of mischief, was too ill at ease to enjoy herself any longer. Seeing the uselessness of his efforts, Antoine at length took leave of his hosts, without taking any particular notice of Rosine. When he was gone, M. Bichonnet turned towards the young milliner, and in a solemn tone began, 'Mademoiselle, I feel it is a duty I owe to my fellow-menBut there was something in Rosine's mild appealing glance which seemed to reprove him: he paused, looked embarrassed, and observed in a gentler tone, 'Well, well, I see you understand me; and so-good-night.' Rosine made no reply; but rising somewhat proudly, she retired, bitterly regretting having accepted the unlucky invitation, which had so disturbed the harmony of the evening. A deep ominous silence followed this daring act. Madame Miroiton gazed on Madame Bichonnet with an indignant glance, as much as to say, 'You see it!' and Madame Bichonnet turned up her eyes, and clasped her hands in amazement. M. Miroiton did not seem to know what to make of it; and M. Bichonnet solemnly shook his head two or three times, like one whom nothing can astonish. On perceiving Antoine's meaning, Rosine had coloured deeply, and, by the timid deprecating look she cast around, seemed to implore indulgence for her involuntary fault. But the singer of comic songs was staring point-blank at the wall; the two ladies'-maids, who readily took their cue, seemed, by the glances they exchanged, to say, 'What a shocking creature!' the looks of the Miroitons and the Bichonnets were equally stern and forbidding. Mademoiselle Miroiton was too desperately incensed to strive to hide her feelings; and though Mademoiselle Ursule partly triumphed in the mortification suffered by her younger and more attractive rival, her whole attitude showed the consciousness of injured dignity. Antoine Several days elapsed, during which nothing of importalone looked kindly on her, and seemed to resent very ance seemingly occurred. Mademoiselle Ursule, who, much the manner in which the object of his choice was since the Evening of the Day of the Kings, had taken treated. The truth was, that, having perceived the upon herself the office of observing whatever was going drift of Madame Bichonnet's hints and allusions, he had on in the street, nevertheless found the opportunity of felt piqued at being disposed of without his consent, making several curious and interesting remarks. Thus and would have asked either of the ladies'-maids to be she noticed that, on the Friday which followed that mequeen sooner than Mademoiselle Miroiton or Made-morable evening, Madame Bichonnet, notwithstanding moiselle Ursule. Wishing to relieve Rosine from her embarrassment, he drank her health with studied politeness; but when he cried out, Long live the queen!' no voice save M. Bichonnet's, who felt himself bound in honour to reply, echoed his. Poor Rosine grew pale, and laid down her untasted glass, whilst Antoine frowned on the silent and rigid Miroitons. Willing, however, to make an effort towards conciliation, the young shoemaker said with a smile addressing the the delicate state of her health, and the severe cold, actually left her lodge, and ventured to cross the street, in order to enter the abode of the Miroitons; that she remained there upwards of an hour; and that, when she left at last, her features wore the expression of one highly satisfied with the success of a momentous enterprise. Mademoiselle Ursule, moreover, perceived that a very unusual agitation prevailed in the porter's lodge: through some mysterious means she even learned that, during the course of the day, several secret conferences took place between Madame Bichonnet and the cook of the first-floor lodgers. M. Bichonnet himself seemed more solemn and dignified than ever. At last the important truth came out: the Bichonnets were, on the next Sunday, to give a dinner, to which the Miroitons and Antoine Tourneur were invited. The mystery was, however, kept up until the Saturday afternoon. It then happened that the portress let out an inkling of the fact to one of her neighbours, the consequence of which was, that, in less than five minutes, Mademoiselle Ursule entered the shoemaker's shop. 'Sir,' said she, addressing Antoine Tourneur, who stood behind the counter, 'I am in want of a pair of shoes; will you take my measure?' The young man bowed, and very politely led the way to a little back parlour, where the staymaker took a seat, and in a very slow and stately manner gave him numberless recommendations concerning the size, colour, and shape of her chaussure. Although Antoine heard her patiently to the end, Mademoiselle Ursule seemed to mistake the nature of his feelings, for she observed, 'I see you are in a hurry, and I am sorry to detain you; but as I shall be very busy next week, and as I shall not see you until the shoes are made 'What!' interrupted Antoine, 'do we not meet tomorrow evening?' 'Where should we meet, sir?' asked the staymaker with much seeming surprise. 'At Madame Bichonnet's of course,' said the young man. Mademoiselle Ursule seemed to endeavour to recollect who the Bichonnets were; then, as though suddenly remembering, she loftily observed, Oh, bless me, no! I shall spend to-morrow at home, sir, with poor dear Rosine.' And is not Mademoiselle Rosine to be there either?' eagerly asked Antoine, whose features expressed some disappointment. Really, Monsieur Tourneur,' sharply observed the spinster staymaker, you must have an extraordinary opinion of myself and Rosine, to imagine that, after the insults we have there endured, we could ever be induced to cross again the threshold of Madame Bichonnet's lodge.' I beg your pardon,' confusedly answered Antoine; 'but when Madame Bichonnet spoke of my meeting pleasant company to-morrow, I really thought she meant you.' Though somewhat soothed by the compliment, Mademoiselle Ursule smiled with unutterable scorn. Sir,' she loftily said, I will not speak of myself; I will speak of Rosine, whom Mademoiselle Miroiton has maliciously slandered, for what motive I know not'-Mademoiselle Ursule uttered the words in so significant a tone, as to leave no doubt but she was perfectly aware of it and whom, but for me, she would have deprived of the means of earning her bread.' Antoine looked up with astonishment: the staymaker continued- Rosine works for a great milliner, who resides in the house where Mademoiselle Miroiton's parents are porters. Since the Evening of the Kings, this creature has so contrived her vile insinuations, that Rosine has been refused any more work. Seeing her pass by the day before yesterday all in tears, I called her in, and, as she can fortunately stitch very neatly, engaged her to work for me on the instant, so that she shall have work in spite of the whole Miroiton brood.' And has everything really happened as you relate it?' very gravely asked Antoine. Exactly so, sir,' dryly replied Mademoiselle Ursule. 'Pray do not forget my shoes. Good-day to you. suppose,' she carelessly added, 'you go to the Bichonnets to-morrow?' sorely puzzled to make out the shoemaker's real intentions, and quite disposed to quarrel with him for taking no heed of poor neglected Rosine, and dining with those odious Miroitons and Bichonnets; but though in such ill-humour, that her first act on entering the workroom was to scold Rosine for some imaginary fault, she had enough of self-control not to say a word about Antoine Tourneur, or the step she had taken. Perhaps the reader will feel surprised to see the staymaker now taking part for the young girl whom she treated with such contempt on the Evening of the Kings; but Mademoiselle Ursule did not pique herself in the least of acting upon logical principles: she boasted that she had strong feelings and lively sensibilities-that she was the creature of impulse,' &c.-which of course explained everything. The truth was, that although, as she herself truly asserted, she had never experienced the passion of love, she had, however-partly through Madame Bichonnet's hints-begun to think lately that her young neighbour, M. Tourneur, might prove an acceptable partner for life. His politeness she construed into a deeper feeling, veiled by profound respect; and although she felt no strong affection for him, yet there is no knowing to what pity might have led even her rather unsusceptible heart, when the rivalry of Mademoiselle Miroiton awoke all her jealous feelings, and for the present stifled tenderer emotions. When Rosine entered the porter's lodge on the evening of the festival, she immediately looked upon her as on another rival, and found her artful, designing, &c. It is very likely this impression might never have been effaced, if Mademoiselle Miroiton had not chanced to take precisely the same view of the subject; which Mademoiselle Ursule no sooner saw, than she immediately perceived she must have been in the wrong. There could be no possible sympathy between her and her rival. When she learned the unworthy treatment the young milliner had met with from the porter's daughter, she felt highly indignant; and, as much from a feeling of justice, as from the wish of annoying Mademoiselle Miroiton, she took her into her employment. As she was naturally kind-hearted, the simplicity and gentleness of Rosine soon charmed her; and reflecting-for, from his conduct on the Evening of the Kings' festival, she began to suspect she might have been deceived in Antoine's feelings-that she had lived too long single to resign herself to the many tribulations of wedded life, and that it would be highly imprudent in her to trust herself to the fickleness of man, she prudently resolved to discard Antoine altogether: a task which she found the easier, that her heart had never been in the least affected. But though she might be quite willing to give him up for herself, she was anything but desirous that Mademoiselle Miroiton should enjoy the triumph of supplanting her; indeed, as she had a shocking temper, she felt it quite a charity to prevent their union. In short, she resolved that it should not be her fault if her rival ever became Madame Tourneur. It is true Antoine did not seem very deeply smitten; but then there was no knowing what arts might be employed. Ah! if he only knew what a dear good creature Rosine was; and much prettier than Mademoiselle Miroiton too! There could be no doubt about that! Indeed it was no difficult task; a shockingly vulgar creature! She herself, though not quite so fresh perhaps, might venture to compare. But even in her thoughts Mademoiselle Ursule was modest: she hated to speak of her personal advantages ! Such being her feelings on this subject, it is no matter of wonder that Mademoiselle Ursule should be exceedingly cross, when, on the Sunday afternoon, she perIceived the Miroitons proceeding to the Bichonnets; but when she actually saw Antoine taking the arm of Mademoiselle Miroiton, dressed out in all her finery, and who, as she averred, cast a glance of ironical triumph on her as she passed by, her anger broke out in vehement denunciations against the faithlessness of men in general, and Antoine Tourneur's want of spirit in Antoine bowed in token of assent; and without seeming to notice the smile and glance of contempt which she cast upon him, he ceremoniously conducted Mademoiselle Ursule to the door. The staymaker went home, particular. Rosine gently endeavoured to say a few words for the culprit, but she was immediately silenced by the indignant staymaker. Several days elapsed, and notwithstanding her anxiety on this subject, Mademoiselle Ursule could not ascertain how the dinner of the Bichonnets had passed. The cook of the first-floor lodgers indeed informed her of the number of dishes served on the table, but further than this her knowledge did not extend, and the triumphant bearing of Mademoiselle Miroiton alone left her room to conjecture the issue of this important event. Towards the middle of the week, Antoine Tourneur brought home Mademoiselle Ursule's shoes himself. The staymaker received him very stiffly in the presence of Rosine, whose eyes seemed rivetted on her work, and sharply observed that the shoes did not fit. Contrary to her expectation perhaps, Antoine, far from disputing the fact, readily admitted it, and instantly offered to make her another pair. Mademoiselle Ursule, who was taken by surprise, and felt somewhat conscience-stricken-for the shoes were, in reality, an excellent fit-abruptly replied, that as she wanted them for the following Sunday, she must keep them such as they were. You can have the other pair by Saturday morning,' calmly replied Antoine. Still Mademoiselle Ursule objected; but taking up the shoes, the young man showed her so plainly they did not fit, that she at length gave up the point, and consented to have the other pair made. This being decided, Antoine, who seemed in no great hurry to depart, entered into a very animated conversation with Mademoiselle Ursule, and after exchanging a few words with Rosine, at length took his leave. 'Well,' said the staymaker, now greatly mollified, 'I must confess that, with all his faults, Monsieur Tourneur is really a nice young man. And you see, Rosine, what might happen, if I only wished for it.' Rosine started, and looked somewhat surprised. Misunderstanding her feelings, Mademoiselle Ursule complacently continued, "Yes, my dear, did I not prefer leading a single life, I might be Madame Tourneur; but though I may give up this prospect, it is not in order to see that odious Mademoiselle Miroiton marry him; and really, child, I wonder you did not take more notice of him just now; who knows what may happen?' She paused, and nodded very significantly. But Rosine coloured, and looked unusually grave. they hurt her; and, in short, that M. Antoine Tourneur must take her measure. It was in vain for Rosine to protest against this; she was compelled to submit. The consequence of this was, that Antoine, who always made it a point-doubtless out of pure politeness-to take the measure and bring home the shoes and boots himself to his customers, was seldom less than two or three times a-week at Mademoiselle Ursule's house. We must now return to M. and Madame Bichonnet, whom we have neglected too long. On the evening of the second Sunday which followed that on which they gave the dinner to the Miroitons, they were seated as usual in their lodge, Madame Bichonnet dozing in her arm-chair, and her husband looking on the fire, and thinking of nothing, or, as he more elegantly expressed it, wrapped in profound meditation,' when they were suddenly startled by a loud knock at the street-door. M. Bichonnet pulled the string placed near him for this purpose, the door opened, and Mademoiselle Ursule showed her thin and prim countenance at the other side of the glass casement which divided the lodge from the passage, and through means of which M. Bichonnet could reconnoitre every one who entered or left the house. 'Is Mademoiselle Rosine at home?' she hastily inquired. Bless me, what shall I do?' she continued in a tone of deep disappointment on being answered in the negative. 'I believe,' politely answered M. Bichonnet, 'Mademoiselle Rosine is gone to vespers.' 'Oh dear no,' smilingly replied Mademoiselle Ursule; she is gone to take a walk with her betrothed!' 'Her betrothed!' echoed the astonished porters. 'Yes,' carelessly rejoined the staymaker; she is to be married to Monsieur Antoine Tourneur next Sundayweek. I wanted to see her, in order to know whether she would have her wedding-dress of white tulle or muslin. But I daresay the muslin will look best. But bless me, now I think of it, she must be at home by this time, and I to stand talking here! Good-night, Monsieur; good-night, Madame Bichonnet.' And Mademoiselle Ursule hastened away, with a look of the greatest consequence, leaving the porters so astonished, that it was several minutes before they recovered from the surprise into which she had thrown them. 'Poor Mademoiselle Miroiton!' exclaimed Madame Bichonnet, clasping her hands, and turning up her eyes, I thought to have drunk her health at her marriage-dinner before I died; but it is all over now!' 'My dear,' solemnly said M. Bichonnet, 'this is what comes of mingling with people beneath you; this On the following Saturday Antoine called with the shoes, which were this time an admirable fit; so at least Mademoiselle Ursule said, and Antoine did not contradict her, although he made a longer stay than the last time, and was still more lively and pleasant. But not-is-’ withstanding his indirect attempts to enter into a conversation with her, Rosine was so silent and reserved, in spite of Mademoiselle Ursule's encouraging nods and winks, that the staymaker gave her a good scolding when the young man was gone-upbraiding her for her prudery, stiffness, and so forth. To her reproaches Rosine mildly but firmly answered, 'I will not feign to misunderstand you; but, with the exception of a very simple mark of politeness, what reason has Monsieur Tourneur given me to think that he looks upon me otherwise than as a stranger? And he being rich, and I poor, what would his opinion be of me if I seemed to think differently?' 'Very well, my dear,' bitterly replied her friend; see him married to Mademoiselle Miroiton, and live and die an old maid, if such is your choice.' Rosine made no reply, and here the subject was dropped. Although the shoes which Antoine had made for Mademoiselle Ursule were perhaps the best shoes that had ever been made (so she said at least), they were worn out in an incredibly short space of time; the consequence of which was, that she had to order another pair. She next discovered that she sadly wanted winter boots; then, as spring was coming on, a pair of summer She even asserted that Rosine had nothing fit to put on her feet; that her shoes were too narrow; that ones. 'Nay, Bichonnet,' mildly interrupted his wife, 'Rosine is a sweet-tempered girl, and she will really do better for Antoine than Mademoiselle Miroiton, with her high spirit. I daresay if I were to give her something, just a bit of lace, on the occasion of her marriage, it would not be thrown away; and I should like to see Antoine happily settled before I die. I am afraid the ceremony might affect my nerves; though I believe I should go, if they were to ask us to the dinner.' But, my dear, think of Mademoiselle Miroiton,' gravely observed her husband. 'Really I don't care about Mademoiselle Miroiton,' sharply replied Madame Bichonnet; 'her airs are insupportable; whereas I always liked dear little Rosine.' 'I believe, my dear,' solemnly said M. Bichonnet, 'that you are in the right. If they ask us, we will go to the dinner. To be friendly with them, is our greatest duty towards our fellow-men.' In short, it required very few arguments to convince this worthy couple that Antoine Tourneur could not have made a better choice than in the person of the modest little milliner, whom they henceforth treated with the most flattering distinction. On the next Sunday-week Rosine and Antoine were married, to the triumph of Mademoiselle Ursule, and the despair of Mademoiselle Miroiton. M. and Madame Bichonnet, who were amongst the guests, were delighted with the whole affair; which, indeed, they asserted, they had wished for and foreseen from the beginning. But though the bride and bridegroom were polite to them, there was not in their behaviour the warmth and cordiality which marked their intercourse with Mademoiselle Ursule. This difference became still more marked after their marriage; for whereas the staymaker was almost constantly their guest, the porters received no further invitations. Madame Bichonnet now began to think poor Mademoiselle Miroiton had been sadly used, and she called on her for the purpose of condoling with her misfortune; but the young lady, who had a high spirit, shut the door in her face, and informed M. Bichonnet's landlord of the code of regulations he had set up in his house; the consequence of which was, that the porters were discharged, and left the neighbourhood, with the consciousness,' as M. Bichonnet said, of having vainly endeavoured to serve his fellow-men.' About a year after his marriage-need we say it proved a happy one?-Antoine met M. Bichonnet in a remote neighbourhood. He inquired after the health of Madame Bichonnet, and learned that it had greatly improved since they had opened a commercial establishment. Antoine looked surprised. Yes,' continued the former porter with his usual dignity, we sell fried potatoes on the Pont-Neuf.' Antoine smiled, and wishing him every success, bade him farewell. Six months later, he met him again. He was more thin and dignified than ever. Antoine hoped his affairs were in a flourishing state. No, sir, they are not,' loftily replied M. Bichonnet; 'the year has been dreadful for trade, and we have suffered like everybody. I suppose you have suffered too?' 'No, indeed; I was never better off." That is strange; all the tradespeople we know failed. But we have not, mind you. No, no, sir: we have given up the potato concern, it is true, but our honour is unsullied.' And where are you now?' asked Antoine. 'We have a porter's lodge in the Faubourg SaintAntoine. A poor place, sir. Ah! times are changed since we ate the Kings' cake with you in our comfortable lodge.' Ill-disposed persons asserted, however, that the new landlord's presence alone prevented M. Bichonnet from carrying on matters with as high a hand as formerly. As for Madame Bichonnet, she was marvellously improved in health, and went about the house quite briskly, considering her delicate state--for she still spoke occasionally of her ailments, and indulged in dismal forebodings of not living beyond the spring; but, as Mademoiselle Ursule charitably observed, this was through habit.' Misfortune had not, however, soured Madame Bichonnet's placid temper. She spoke kindly of every one, and never said anything worse of Mademoiselle Miroiton than that, 'Poor thing! so, notwithstanding every effort she made, she could not get married after all. It grieves me to the heart; but indeed I always thought her too high-spirited for matrimony!' We have dwelt somewhat lightly on the married life of Antoine and Rosine; but it is happy, and what more could be said? Mademoiselle Ursule, whose somewhat irritable temper they bear with the most praiseworthy patience, is still their best and most constant friend: they are thoroughly happy and prosperous, in the moral and worldly sense of the words. The Bichonnets are still in their old lodge: they have left off a good deal of their selfish worldliness would we might say all!-and are quite cured of the temptation of match-making. For indeed, as M. Bichonnet loftily observes, it hardly becomes the dignity of a French porter to meddle in such affairs; and he very much doubts whether his duty to his fellowmen does not forbid it entirely. The last tidings we had of the Bichonnets declare that, on the 6th of January last, an enormous twelfth-cake was cut up in their lodge; the persons present were, besides the hosts, Antoine Tourneur, with his wife and two children, Mademoiselle Ursule, and the melancholy young man who sings the comic songs, and who declared, that though they were not yet thirteen, there was no knowing what might happen in time, winking as he spoke towards Madame Tourneur and the children; a joke which obtained much success, and is not yet forgotten in the neighbourhood. The same young man is said to have paid great attention to Mademoiselle Ursule. As she is resolved to remain single, this must be a calumny; and yet it may be true enough, for Mademoiselle Ursule herself was the person who originated the report. On the same evening M. Bichonnet also confidentially informed one of his guests-which, it is not known-that Louis-Philippe had only a very short time to remain on the throne. He prudently refrained from saying how long, for fear the police might seek to involve him in some political conspiracy. Merely inquiring for his direction, Antoine took leave of M. Bichonnet. The same evening he held a long and private conference with his wife. Mademoiselle Ursule saw that something was going to take place; and though too proud to question them, she used her eyes and ears without scruple. The next morning she learned that Antoine was to call on his landlord, who resided in the house where Rosine had formerly lived, and which he had lately bought from its original posBELIEF AND CONVICTION. sessor. What could Antoine want with him? For several days she could learn nothing, but the truth at BETWEEN these two there is all the difference in the last became apparent. On a fine morning, a small cart- world. Perhaps there are scarcely ten thieves or disload of furniture, led by M. Bichonnet, and with Ma- honest tradesmen in England who do not believe that dame Bichonnet perched on the top of a very high bed-honesty is the best policy;' but the actual conduct of stead, stopped at the door of the house opposite. As Madame Bichonnet nodded and smiled very benignantly to her, there could be no doubt about it. On learning that Antoine had recommended the Bichonnets to his landlord, who was in want of porters, Mademoiselle Ursule was at first highly indignant. Rosine, however, succeeded in pacifying her, by mentioning their unhappy state, and reminding her that if Madame Bichonnet had not entertained a wholesome apprehension of sitting down to a table when there were thirteen persons present, they would never have become acquainted. As for Mademoiselle Miroiton, she entered into a desperate rage on perceiving her ancient enemies once more in possession of their stronghold. She even sought out every opportunity of injuring them; but the porters had been taught by misfortune. They still occasionally gave parties, but avoided notoriety, and condescended to behave more politely to their lodgers. each shows clearly enough that they are not convinced of this truth. Men scarcely ever act from opinions to which they have given merely theoretical assent. Unless the mind has been compelled into conviction by the reasons and grounds of assent having been repeated over and over again, brought before their eyes, and forced into their attention by instances and examples constantly renewed and impressed indelibly by the frequency with which they are presented-unless, I say, this be the way in which opinions are formed, they have not the slightest influence over men's actions. Just as in the material world the unceasing operation of some force, such as gravitation, is necessary to carry on and keep up with constancy the movement of the universe, where no mere casual impulse would suffice to produce aught beyond a momentary start, so in the world of thought |