cion upon some one else, Tesséydre, for instance, till
the next morning; she would at least have her night's
rest.

"Ah, here comes my mistress — Something ails him
again!" said Corentine, running to open the door,
much excited, and consequently showing the traces of
small-pox more than usual. Mme. Astier was going
to her room, but the door of the study opened and an
imperious, "Adelaide!" forced her to enter. Léon-
ard's face wore a strange expression in the light fall-
ing on it from the shaded lamp. Taking both her
hands, he drew her forward into the glow, then said in
a trembling voice: "Loissillon is dead," and kissed
her on both cheeks.

Nothing! He knew nothing yet; he had not gone
up to the archives, but had been pacing up and down
his room for two hours, waiting impatiently to see her
and tell the news so important to both. Their lives
were completely changed by those three words: "Loi-
ssillon is dead!"

MY DEAR SISTER:
Your letters distress me. You are ill and weary,
suffering and need me at home, but what is to be done?
Remember my master's advice. "Show yourself, let
people see you." Do you suppose I can prepare for
my candidateship at Clos-Jallanges in my splatter-
dashes and shooting-coat? For there is no doubt that
the time is approaching; Loisillon's health visibly fails,
and I am taking advantage of the long death-struggle
to create in the Académie sympathies which will be-
come votes. Léonard Astier has already presented me
to several of these gentlemen; I shall call for him
often after the meetings. The departure from the In-
stitute is delightful, these men, nearly all of whom are
burdened by years as well as fame, walking arm in

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