at this avowal," although we seldom marry for love, we very often love without marrying—marriage has nothing to do with love."
"But it has something to do with the establishment you speak of," answered Miss Jones.
"She attacks me with my own weapons," thought Rochechouart.
"True," said he, "and we sometimes sacrifice interest to love."
"Would you?" said Miss Jones, with the greatest naïveté imaginable.
The Duke, experienced as he was, found some difficulty in answering the question. "Hem!—It's not impossible," he said. "I might certainly under great temptation;" and he darted mille amours from his beautiful black eyes.
It was a decided hit. Miss Jones cast down her beautiful blue ones, and a delicate blush suffused her fair cheeks.
"C'est un crise," thought the Duke, "il faut retirer. I shall hope for the honour of seeing Mademoiselle in my box to-night," said he, rising to take his leave. "One of my carriages will be wholly at your orders; and you will find it at your door at eight o'clock, to convey you to the theatre. As I am in wait-
