Returned home, Jacob found a note from Muse, who implored him, no matter at what hour he returned, to come to her, saying she would wait for him if necessary until morning.

Until now the grave young man, notwithstanding the marked devotion of his lovely proselyte, had known how to maintain when in her presence a respectful distance, avoiding all familiar and compromising relations. The mother and daughter endeavoured in vain to put him in a compromising position. More than once things were arranged so that he was alone with the young girl, who then employed an insinuating sweetness and provoking tenderness; but Jacob did not cease to be respectful and dignified. There had been moments when this charming creature, animated by a simulated passion, and recalling the Greek bacchantes, had produced in him an involuntary sensation; but he conquered it, and his love for Mathilde served as a shield to defend him against temptation.

It was past midnight when the servant who had brought the letter told him that he was expected on the floor below. Jacob hesitated; but he thought that some urgent business had caused these ladies to appeal to him, and he decided to go.

He found Muse in a light piquant yet modest dress, her beautiful hair partly unconfined, her shoulders a little uncovered, as if by chance. She held a handkerchief, and was all prepared for tears. When he entered, she ran to meet him.

"Oh, Monsieur Jacob!" cried she, taking his hand. "What has happened? Where have you been? You were no doubt mixed up in this affair. Oh, I ask you, for mercy's sake, not to throw yourself in the fray. Does not friendship permit me to ask this of you?"

She fixed her eyes tenderly on Jacob, who, perfectly calm, did not reply. Muse continued:--

"I am all in a tremble about you. Do not misjudge my feelings, for I have for you only the sentiments of a sister," and she pressed his hand for the second time.

"I thank you very much, mademoiselle; but I give you my word of honour that I know nothing of the events that have taken place, and I do not intend to take part in the fray."

"In that case, why this prolonged absence?"

"By a singular chance a person of my acquaintance stopped me and the conversation lasted long."

"It is useless, you cannot deceive me;" and saying this she seized both of his hands and leaned toward him. He could hear the beating of her heart, her breath fanned his cheek, and her eyes sought to magnetize him.

"I will tell you, then, that I passed the rest of the evening with a Russian," said Jacob smiling.

This smile, this coldness and complete presence of mind, displeased Muse. She had hoped to see him succumb to her fascinations; but she had deceived herself, and this angered her against him and against herself. But the more difficult it was to inspire him with no matter what kind of love, the more she was determined to succeed.

"Very well. I believe you; but look at me, monsieur," said she lowering her voice. "Have I not changed? Hours of feverish anxiety for you are graven on my face."

These words were murmured in his ear, and were scarcely intelligible.

"Truly, mademoiselle," replied Jacob, "I feel myself unworthy of such anxiety on your part."

"No; you are not worthy of a sentiment that you have awakened without even deigning to perceive it. You are so indifferent, so cold." Then, as if she had said too much, she lowered her eyes and was silent.

Jacob felt sorry for her, and leaning towards her he kissed her hand. Muse started as if he had applied a hot iron, trembled violently, und buried her head in the sofa-pillow.

Then for the first the thought that Muse loved him struck Jacob. To have allowed such a sentiment to develop seemed to him a great crime. He was as horrified with himself as if his conduct had been that of a libertine. He started from his seat and looked at her. This sudden agitation could be interpreted in different ways. Muse did not prolong the scene, for even if the desired end was not completely attained, she hoped much for the future in the silence and troubled mien of the young man.

"Go, monsieur!" said she. "I am ill. I do not know what I have said. My head is confused."

Jacob hesitated a moment, looked at her pale face, saluted her respectfully, and went out. He had hardly closed the door behind him when the mother entered.

"Very well, what has happened?" asked she.

"He is stupid, very stupid," replied the adorable Emusia, shrugging her shoulders. "He is a fool, but I will conquer him yet."

"I fear, on the contrary, that he is not enough of a fool for us," replied Madame Wtorkowska.