Haidee of Lord Byron.

The former guardsman stayed, with apparent impertinence, after the
other guests had left the salons; and Madame Firmiani found him
sitting quietly before her in an armchair, evidently determined to
remain, with the pertinacity of a fly which we are forced to kill to
get rid of it. The hands of the clock marked two in the morning.

"Madame," said the old gentlemen, as Madame Firmiani rose, hoping to
make him understand that it was her good pleasure he should go,
"Madame, I am the uncle of Monsieur Octave de Camps."

Madame Firmiani immediately sat down again, and showed her emotion. In
spite of his sagacity the old Planter was unable to decide whether she
turned pale from shame or pleasure. There are pleasures, delicious
emotions the chaste heart seeks to veil, which cannot escape the shock
of startled modesty. The more delicacy a woman has, the more she seeks
to hide the joys that are in her soul. Many women, incomprehensible in
their tender caprices, long to hear a name pronounced which at other
times they desire to bury in their hearts. Monsieur de Bourbonne did
not interpret Madame Firmiani's agitation exactly in this way: pray
forgive him, all provincials are distrustful.

"Well, monsieur?" said Madame Firmiani, giving him one of those clear,
lucid glances in which we men can never see anything because they
question us too much.

"Well, madame," returned the old man, "do you know what some one came
to tell me in the depths of my province? That my nephew had ruined
himself for you, and that the poor fellow was living in a garret while