"Athanasia, my goddess," said Monsieur Etienne, coming in on tiptoe, "how do you feel to-day?"

She reached out her pale hand and answered in a languid voice: "The doctor says that, so far, I am doing pretty well, and, by great precautions, I may be able, in a few weeks, to resume my household duties."

Monsieur Etienne raised his eyebrows, and looked thoughtful. "The doctor is over-anxious, my dear," said he: "he exaggerates your weakness. Our little angel there is already three weeks old, and will be standing on his legs before long."

"The doctor is more sympathizing than you, Monsieur Etienne," began the wife.

"My treasure," interrupted her husband, "no one can wish to spare you premature exertion more than I. But I do entreat of you, my angel, to do your best to remain with the company to-day as long as you can."

"I will do all in my power to oblige you," said Madame Etienne, condescendingly, "and if you require it. I will sit up from first to last."

"It will be a great festival for us, provided no passengers arrive to-day. Good Heaven! if they should come, what could I do with them? Even the best of those we receive here are scarcely fit to introduce among our respectable guests; and then, as for post-horses, I want every one of them for the company. Heaven defend us, then, from passengers, for—oh! oh! is it possible! Can it be!" said Etienne, interrupting himself. "Yes, it is the sound of a post-horn."

"Perhaps it is some of our guests," suggested Madame Etienne. "No no, for our postilions to-day play but one air, 'Je suis pere, un pere heureux,'" said Monsieur Etienne, listening with all his might to the approaching horn.

"It is a passenger," said he, despondingly, "Athanasia, my angel, we are lost!"

So saying, Monsieur Etienne darted out of the room, as if be were rushing off to look for himself; but he stopped as soon as he had reached his front door, for there was no necessity to go farther. A dark caleche, with three horses, dashed up to the door, while not far behind came another chaise, whose post-horn was sounding "Je suis pere, un pere heureux."