NUMA ROUMESTAN. liberal ideas, launched out into a spirited description of the Court, mounted on richly caparisoned chargers and pa freys hunting the stag in the midst of vivid flashes of lightning and peals of distant thunder, then the deluge, aud the whole monarchical march- aras closing in a pool of blood and mud! Perhaps this bit of description was not en- tirely new-; perhaps Roumestan had previously triecl it at the Conference: but never had his wit and irony awakened such enthusiastic admira- tion as was visible in the clear deep eyes that were now turned upon him, while a mischiev- ous expression played upon Mme. Quesnoy s gentle face, aud seemed to ask, "Well, what do you think of the Southern gentleman now? Rosalie was fascinated; thrilled to the depths of her inmost soul by the power of this elo- quence, the charm of this melodious voice, by these generous ideas, so well suited to his youth, aud this love of liberty and justice. Like ladies who, at the theater, almost in- variably identify the actor with his rôle, she forgot the allowance that should be made for the virtuoso. Ah! had she but known the indifference concealed under all these fine phrases; had she but known how little the fêtes at Compiegne had really interested him, aud that only an imperial invitation would have beeu needed to induce him to take part in these cavalcades, where his vanity and his instinctive love of acting would have made him perfectly at ease! But she was completely under the spell of his eloquence. The table appeared larger to her; the dull, weary faces of the other guests, a judge and a physician residing in the neigh- borhood, seeme'd transfigured; and when they passed into the drawing-room the chandelier, lighted for tlie first time since the death of her brother, dazzled her eyes as if it had been the sun. But the sun was Roumestan. He reani- mated this magnificent abode, drove away the gloom and melancholy that haunt the nooks and corners of all ancient dwellings, and re- stored to life and beauty the charming nymphs and garlands which had beeu fading on the walls for a hundred years. "Do you love painting, sir?" "I adore it." To tell the truth, he understood nothing at all about it; but upon this subject, jike all others, he had a large fund of ideas and ever-ready words, aud while the other guests took their places at the whist-table, art furnished him with a good excuse for lingering beside the young girl, while they discussed the old frescoes on the ceiling and some admirably preserved masterpieces "hanging on the walls. Rosalie was the real artist of the two. Educated in an atmosphere of culture and taste, the sight of a flue painting or a rare bit of statuary caused an intense delight, felt, rather than expressed, on account of her natural reserve, and the pre- tended raptures in which fashionable people of the preseut day indulge, and which often pre- vent real aud discriminating admiration from displaying itself. Seeing them together, how- ever, one would have supposed, from the elo- quent assurance with which the young lawyer discussed the theme, and Rosalie's attentive air, that he was some great master giving a lesson to an humble disciple. "Mamma, can we go into your room? I would like to show Monsieur Roumestan the panel representing the hunting scene." The mother directed a furtive look of inquiry at the gentleman, whom she always humbly addressed and alluded to as "Monsieur Le Quesnoy," and when the counselor gave a slight nod in token of assent, she in turn acqui- esced. Together, Numa and Rosalie traversed a corridor lined with books, and found them- selves in the parental chamber—an apartment as antique and imposing in character as the drawing-room. The panel was above a small, elaborately carved door. "You cannot see it," remarked the young- girl. As she spoke, she lifted the double candle- stick, which she had taken from the card-table, and held it high in the air with her right hand, so that the light shone full on the panel repre- senting Diana surrounded by her attendant nymphs, in an Elysian landscape; but in this attitude, with the light falling upon'her simple coiffure, her clear eyes, with their rather haughty smile, and the graceful outlines of her girlish form, she was a better Diana than the goddess herself. Roumestan looked at her, and captivated by her youthful loveliness and inno- cence, he forgot who she was, and all his longing to put his arms around this supple waist, and to kiss this soft, perfumy hair seized him; a wild desire to take this child to himself as the charm and happiness of his whole life; and something warned him that such an attempt on his part would not be unsuccessful, that she was his, wholly his, conquered and won at first sight. Flame and wind of the South, you are irresistible I CHAPTER III. INCOMPATIBILITY OF TEMPER. Never were two persons less adapted for a common life than these. Antagonistic in in- stinct, education, temperament-, aud race, with different opinions on every subject, here was the personification of North and South, and without any hope of a possible union. Passion thrives on these contrasts unquestionably; but in daily life, and the monotony of weeks and months spent under the same roof, the intox- ication that has been mistaken for love gradu- ally wears away, and one becomes discerning and even critical. In the new household this awakening did not come immediately, at least not to Rosalie. Clear-sighted and sensible on all other subjects, she remained for a long time blind in regard to everything connected with Numa; and, with- out comprehending how greatly she was his superior, he was the first to recover from his infatuation. The tempests of the South are soon spent by reason of their very violence. Then, too, the Southerner is quickly convinced of his wife's inferiority. Once married, and sure of his happiness, he becomes transformed into a master, a sort of pacha, accepting love as his due, and even considering himself very gracious to accept it; for even to be loved takes time, and Numa was very busy in the new life which his marriage, his wealth, and his in- fluential position as "he Quesnoy's son-in-law necessitated. Aunt Portal's hundred thousand francs had served to pay Malmus and the upholsterers, and to wipe out all indebtedness contracted during his dreary and miserable bachelor life; and tlie transition from the café, Malmus to Uie handsome dining-room on the Rue Scribe, where he played the host opposite his charming little wife, at sumptuous dinners given to theat- rical and musical celebrities, was unspeakably delightful to him. The Provençal loved com- pany and the pleasures of the table, but he en- joyed these with increased zest inhis own house. Rosalie offered no objection, accommodated herself to the open house, the table laid each evening for ten or fifteen guests, all gentlemen, performing her duties as hostess with unfailing courtesy until the advent of coffee and cigars, when she withdrew to afford an opportunity for political discussions and the sallies of wit which usually conclude a gentlemen's dinner party. Housekeepers alone know the difficulties and perplexities wliich such a manner of living in- volve,but Rosalie struggled on uncomplainingly, trying to bring as much order as possible out of this confusion, in order to gratify this terrible hero who terrified her witli his boisterousness, but who occasionally smiled on his little wife be- tween two thunder-claps. She regretted only one thing, however, that she did not have him more to herself. Even at breakfast there was always some friend, with them, the companion with whom this Southerner could not dispense, the giver of the reply so necessary to the lively play of his ideas, the arm upon which he could lean complacently, the hand to which he could confide his heavy satchel on going to the Palais de Justice. Ah, how gladly she would have walked part of the way with him! how happy she would have been to go for him rainy days in their coupe, and return together, seated side by side. But she dared not ask permission to do so, sure that there would always be some objection- some engagement with one of the dear five hundred intimate friends of whom Roumestan said with a complacent air,— " He is devoted to me. He would go through fire and water for mv sake." This was his idea of friendship. His obliging disposition and fickleness made him the devoted friend of the first comer, whom he dropped again just as quickly. Every week there was some new name which was repeated iu each sentence, and which Rosalie carefully inscribed on the decorated menu card for each repast dreams of wealth and of ambition. A wild after which it suddenly disappeared altogether as if the owner's personality had been as de- structible as the tiri'ed pictures on the little card. Among these birds of passage only one held his own; but to Roumestan he was less a friend than a habit of long standing, for Bompard and our hero had been born iu the same street. This worthy was virtually one of the family, for the young wife had found installed in the seat of honor in her household this lean, lank personage, with a large hooked nose and round agate eyes set in a yellow, leather-like skin, furrowed with the wrinkles peculiar to faces which have been subjected to continual con- tortions. Yet Bompard had never been a com- edian, though he had sung for awhile in the chorus of the Italian opera, and it was there Numa had discovered him. With this excep- tion, it is impossible to state anything positive concerning his changeful life. He had seen everything, done everything, and been every- where. No celebrated man or famous event was mentioned in his presence without eliciting the remark, " He is a friend of mine," or "I was there," and immediately, he related some inci- dent to prove his assertion. By comparing their stories one arrived at the most bewildering results. Bompard in the same year had commanded a company of Polish de- serters at the siege of Sebaslopol, directed the choir in the King of Holland's chapel,and won an exalted place in the favor of the King's sister, which good fortune cost him -six months im- prisonment in the fortress of the Hague; but this last did not prevent him, at the same date, from journeying from Laghouat to Gadamôs through the African desert. All this was solemnly re- lated with a strong accent and few gestures, but with a play of feature which became as wearisome as the evolutions of broken glass in a kaleidoscope. Bompard's present existence was no less ob- scure and mysterious than his past. Where did he live? and upon what? He frequently spoke of large paving contracts, and of a Paris- ian street which was to be paved with asphalt on a new and economical system; again, he had suddenly discovered an infallible preventive of phylloxera, and was only awaiting a letter from the Minister to come into possession of a prize of one hundred thousand francs. The conversa- tion of this visionary Southerner delighted Rou- mestan, who took Bompard about everywhere, encouraging and chaffing him. When Numa paused to speak to any one on the Boulevard, Bompard generally stepped aside in a dignified manner, making a pretense of relighting his cigar. At funerals, and at first representations at the theater or opera, he might be seen mov- ing about, eagerly inquiring: "Have you seen Roumestan?" He soon became as well known as Roumestan himself. This kind of a follower is no rarity in Paris; all celebrities take around with them a Bompard, who walks in their shadow, and derives a sort of importance from them; but Rosalie could not endure this hanger- on who was ever between her and her husband, engrossing his attention during the rare mo- ments when they might have been alone. The two friends conversed together not only upon subjects with which she was unacquainted, but in a dialect that was almost incomprehensible to her; but what she disliked most of all were the falsehoods in which Bompard indulged— inventions which were odious to her frank and honest nature, whose greatest charm was a per- fect harmony between thought and speech; a harmony which revealed itself in the sonorous- ness and earnestness of'her crystal clear voice. " I do not like him—he is a liar!" she said, iu a tone of intense indignation, which greatly amused Roumestan, who, defending his friend, said : " Oh, no, he is not a liar; he is only an imaginative man—a dreamer who fancies his dreams are reality. My country is full of such people. There is my aunt Portal, for instance, and I, too, if I did not watch myself every instant------" A little hand closed his lips. " Hush, hush," pleaded Rosalie. " I should not love you if you were like other South- erners." But he was, and she was soon doomed to see this terrible, brutal, and unreasonable South cropping out. Their first quarrel was on the subject of religion. On this subject, as in re- gard to everything else, Roumestan was deeply imbued with the superstition of his race. He was the Provençal Catholic who carries none of his religious principles into practice, who never goes to church except to escort a lady home at