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"Ought he to go and see his uncle?" asked Jeanne

"No," said Madeleine

"Well, suppose you write to him, Fabien?"

Madeleine nodded approval, and drew frolass inkstand, a rusty penholder, and a sheet of paper, at the top of which was a dove with a twig in its beak

"My cousin at Romorantin died just before last New Year's Day," she explained; "so I had one sheet more than I needed"

I sat down at the kitchen table with Jeanne leaning over ht and attentive beside the clock, forgetting all about her kitchen fire as she watched us with her black eyes

This is what I wrote beneath the dove: "MY DEAR UNCLE: "I left Paris with the intention of putting an end to the , and which has given uess I had no possible opportunity of speaking to you between five o'clock yesterday afternoon, when I arrived here, and ten o'clock thisIf I had been able to speak with you, you would not have refused to restore ht to have respected iven your consent to my, union, on which depends your own happiness, my dear uncle, and that of your nephew, "FABIEN"

"Rather too formal," said Jeanne "Now, let me try"

And the enchantress added, with ready pen: "It is I, Monsieur Mouillard, who areater fault by far You forbade Monsieur Fabien to loveso Even yesterday, when he ca I had assured hi confession

"Was I really wrong in that?

"The words that you spoke just now have led , visit your anger on ive your nephew, invite hi only that I was not judged worthy of calling you uncle, which would have been so pleasant and easy a name to speak

"JEANNE"

I read the two letters over aloud Madeleine broke into sobs as she listened

A smile flickered about the corners of Jeanne'sto Madeleine the task of choosing a favorable moment to hand M Mouillard our joint entreaty