The Golden Lion of Granpere

Voss. In this manner were the first assured tidings of the coming marriage conveyed to the rival lover. This occurred a day or two af

and such letters as he did write were short, and always confined to matters concerning his trade. Madame Voss had, however, sent a spec

moderate annual pension in money in addition to her board and lodging. For these considerations, and on condition that George Voss should expend a certain sum of money in renewing the faded glories of the house, he was to be the landlord in full enjoyment of all real power on the first of January following. Madame Faragon, when she had expressed her agr

d to Adrian Urmand, the young linen-m

y, he had sufficient control over himself to prevent any plain expression of his feelings. The thing which had been told

oulage had not brought some word direct to him, and answered the question to himself not altogether incorrectly. 'O, yes,' continued Madame Faragon, 'it is quite true - on the 15th of October. I suppose

id George. 'They can be married, if

onsisted in the amount of doubt which was being thrown on the tidings which had been sent

it is very likely. I was well awa

r never had a franc of her own in her life, and it is not to be expected th

g. He will treat her as th

e she is,- bar-maid, as we may say, in the hotel,- much the same as our Floschen here; and, of cours

he likes

king, with a fine business, doesn't owe a sou, I'll be bound, and with a houseful of furn

elieve that women's likings go aft

he coming marriage. 'I don't suppose anybody will think of blaming Marie Bromar for accepting the match when it was pro

her,' said George

in blood; nothing beyond a most distant cousin.

is a hand

ere as children. But of course M. Urmand only looks to what she is now. She makes her hay while the sun s

o care very much what anybo

ought, George,' said Madame

the matter of Marie's marriage was a cause of sorrow to him. She had felt the not unnatural envy of a woman's mind in such an affair, and could not help expressing it, although Marie Bromar was in some sort connected with herself. But she was sure that such an arr

, and had allowed himself to meditate as little as might be possible. But the misery, the agony, had been then present with him during all those hours,- and had been made the sharper by his endeavours to keep it down and banish it from his thoughts. Now, as he went out from Madame Faragon's room, having finished all that it was his duty to do, he strolled into the town, and at once began to give way to his thoughts. Of course he must think about it. He acknowledged that it was useless for him to atte

so long. She had promised him that she would be true to him. Then had come those few words from his father's mouth, words which he thought his father should never have spoken to him, and he had gone away, telling himself that he would come back and fetch her as soon as he could offer her a home independently of his father. If, after the promises she had made to him, she would not wait for him without farther words and farther vows, she would not be worth the having. In going, he had not precisely told himself that there should be no intercourse between them for twelve months; but th

man. He had made no objection to such a marriage. He had spoken no word of the constancy of his own affection. In his heart there had been anger against her because she had spoken no such word to him,- as of course there was also in her heart against him, very bitter and very hot. If he wished her to be true to him, why did he not say so? If he had given her up, why did he come there at all? Why did he ask any questions about her marriage, if on his own behalf he had no statement to make,- no assurance to give? What was her marriage, or her refusal to be married, to him? Was she to tell him that, as he had deserted her, and as she could not busy herself to overcome her love, therefore she was minded to wear the willow for ever? 'If my uncle and aunt choose to dispose of me, I cannot help it,' she had said. Then he had left her, and she had been sure that for him that early game of love was a game altogether played out. Now, a

s silence, little for pecuniary advantages and prudential motives, in comparison with his strong desire to punish Marie for her perfidy. He would go over to Granpere, and fall among them like a thunderbolt

morrow,' he said to Madame Faragon, as he cau

e day after tom

shall not be at the marriage, but I should like to

Granpere on t