THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY 325 The fair fille de chambre came close up to the bureau, where I was looking for a card,-took up first the pen I had cast down, then offered to hold the ink; she offered it so sweetly I was going to accept it, but I durst not; I have nothing, my dear, said I, to write upon.....Write it, said she, simply, upon anything. -I was just going to cry out, then I will write it, fair girl, upon thy lips! -If I do, said I, I shall perish; so I took her by the hand, and led her to the door, and begged, she would not forget the lesson I had given her....She said, indeed she would not, and, as she uttered it with some earnestness, she turned about, and gave me both her hands, closed together, into mine; it was impossible not to compress them in that situation —I wished to let them go; and, all the time I held them, I kept arguing within myself against it, and still I held them on. In two minutes I found I had all the battle to fight over again;-and I felt my legs and every limb about me tremble at the idea. The foot of the bed was within a yard and a half of the place where we were standing. I had still hold of her hands-and how it happened I can give no account; but I neither asked her, nor drew her, nor did I think of the bed;-but so it did happen, we both sat down. I'll just show you, said the fair fille de chambre, the little purse I have been making to-day to hold your crown. So she put her hand into her right pocket, which was next me, and felt for it some time-then into the left." She had lost it."-I never bore expectation more quietly; it was in her right pocket at last; she pulled it out; it was of green taffeta, lined with a little bit of white quilted satin, and just big enough to hold the crown:-she put it into my hand; it was pretty; and I held it ten minutes, with the back of my hand resting upon her lap, looking sometimes at the purse, sometimes on one side of it. A stitch or two had broken out in the gathers of my stock; the fair fille de chambre, without saying a word, took out her little hussive, threaded a small needle, and sewed it up. I foresaw it would hazard the glory of the day, and, as she passed her hand in silence across and across my neck in the manœuvre, I felt the laurels shake which fancy had wreathed about my head. A strap had given way in her walk, and the buckle of her shoe was just falling off.... See, said the fille de chambre, holding up her foot,-I could not, for |