perpendicular position; then he swept up the ashes of the hearth,
which bore witness to a persistent catarrh. Finally, the old man did
not settle himself till he had once more looked all over the room,
hoping that nothing could give occasion to the saucy and impertinent
remarks with which his daughter was apt to answer his good advice. On
this occasion he was anxious not to compromise his dignity as a
father. He daintily took a pinch of snuff, cleared his throat two or
three times, as if he were about to demand a count out of the House;
then he heard his daughter's light step, and she came in humming an
air from Il Barbiere.

"Good-morning, papa. What do you want with me so early?" Having sung
these words, as though they were the refrain of the melody, she kissed
the Count, not with the familiar tenderness which makes a daughter's
love so sweet a thing, but with the light carelessness of a mistress
confident of pleasing, whatever she may do.

"My dear child," said Monsieur de Fontaine, gravely, "I sent for you
to talk to you very seriously about your future prospects. You are at
this moment under the necessity of making such a choice of a husband
as may secure your durable happiness----"

"My good father," replied Emilie, assuming her most coaxing tone of
voice to interrupt him, "it strikes me that the armistice on which we
agreed as to my suitors is not yet expired."

"Emilie, we must to-day forbear from jesting on so important a matter.
For some time past the efforts of those who most truly love you, my
dear child, have been concentrated on the endeavor to settle you
suitably; and you would be guilty of ingratitude in meeting with