verses long.” “We sing real songs in the marches,”

"I may be foolish," he said; "but I had better be that than reopen some old wound."

"Do not be afraid, doctor; speak out."

"Then, I will begin by asking if you have any remembrance of a young man in your own sphere of society, who, at the time of your marriage, was well known in every Parisian /salon/. I speak of the Marquis de Croisenois."

The Countess leaned back in her chair, and contracted her brow, and pursed up her lips, as though vainly endeavoring to remember the name.

"The Marquis de Croisenois?" repeated she. "It seems as if----no--wait a moment. No; I cannot say that I can call any such person to mind."

The doctor felt that he must give the spur to this rebellious memory.

"Yes, Croisenois," he repeated. "His Christian name was George, and he had a brother Henry, whom you certainly must know, for this winter I saw him at the Duchess de Laumeuse's, dancing with your daughter."

"You are right; I remember the name now."