Monsieur and Madame de Fontaine.

"I have made my daughter Emilie mistress of her own fate," was the
reply spoken by the Count in a deep voice.

Relations and guests gazed at Mademoiselle de Fontaine with mingled
curiosity and pity. The words seemed to declare that fatherly
affection was weary of the contest with a character that the whole
family knew to be incorrigible. The sons-in-law muttered, and the
brothers glanced at their wives with mocking smiles. From that moment
every one ceased to take any interest in the haughty girl's prospects
of marriage. Her old uncle was the only person who, as an old sailor,
ventured to stand on her tack, and take her broadsides, without ever
troubling himself to return her fire.

When the fine weather was settled, and after the budget was voted, the
whole family--a perfect example of the parliamentary families on the
northern side of the Channel who have a footing in every government
department, and ten votes in the House of Commons--flew away like a
brood of young birds to the charming neighborhoods of Aulnay, Antony,
and Chatenay. The wealthy Receiver-General had lately purchased in
this part of the world a country-house for his wife, who remained in
Paris only during the session. Though the fair Emilie despised the
commonalty, her feeling was not carried so far as to scorn the
advantages of a fortune acquired in a profession; so she accompanied
her sister to the sumptuous villa, less out of affection for the
members of her family who were visiting there, than because fashion
has ordained that every woman who has any self-respect must leave
Paris in the summer. The green seclusion of Sceaux answered to
perfection the requirements of good style and of the duties of an