Tfie Sforj' of a V 7dte Camellia, 265 



The rolling of the last carriage-wheels has just died away in the distance, which 

 convey back to Paris the merry band of comedians. How they laugh and chat over 

 the puppet-theater at Malmaison — these careless favorites of the Parisian world ! 

 The young actresses assert defiantly that they will not appear in that place again, and 

 their amiable admirers kiss their hands in token of their approval. 



The graceful Madame St. Auhine trilled with her elegant attendant, St. Pal, a 

 a new duett by Paesiello ; the pretty vocalist Contat, who personated la corpiettc 

 corrigee, to the delight of all, listened, allured to" the impassioned eulogy of the hand- 

 some Baptiste, her first lover. The nearer they approached to their beloved Paris, 

 the lou ler their joyousness. Vive lajoie ! Vive la ville dc Paris ! rings clear from 

 every throat. The incubus of Malmaison was shaken off. 



So still was it that night in the garden of Malmaison, that one could distinctly 

 hear, even at quite a distance, the low creaking of a silk shoe and the light footstep 

 of a woman, as her shadow fell on the walk which led to the greenhouse. In full 

 moonlight now appeared a form. Was it a fairy or a queen ? A long, white dress 

 grazed the ground, embroidered to the knees with colored foil. A slender diadem 

 of opals confined her dark, wavy hair ; on her neck, over which only a light blue 

 shawl was thrown, fell a short gauze veil spangled with gold. Kich lace enveloped 

 her waist, falling over her beautiful arms below. This dazzling apparition vanished 

 in the dimly-lighted entrance to the conservatory. The old gardener was awaiting 

 his protectress there. 



" How are my flowers ?" said the gentle creature. " I could not come earlier, 

 Pierre ; the play lasted so long, and only this moment has the consul dismissed me." 

 And whilst she was uttering these words, she hastened forward with the eagerness of 

 a mother, who, returning from a festival, yearns to kiss her sleeping child ! 



" I ht)pe, Madame," said the old man, tripping after her, " it may blossom, wo 

 shall preserve, at least, one, the largest of the buds. If Madame visits it often it 

 will live — this stranger-flower. It needs light and light always, and very strong 

 light. Our sun is too cold hei'c. So human eyes must look warmly upon it." 



Josephine now stood still. Separated from the rest was standing one slender 

 plant, with dark green leaves. The light of the lamp fell upon the beautiful female 

 face which now bent with an expression of fervent tenderness over her foster child — 

 her Camellia. 



It was the first, the only one that might bloom at Malmaison ! All Paris had not, 

 as yet, beheld a white Camellia. 



Until that hour only dark leaves had unfolded themselves again and again ; the 

 promised marvel had kept them waiting long, in spite of the most watchful care ; so 

 long, that the consul had long since grown impatient, and ceased to inquire after his 

 wife's favorite. At last buds appeared which slowly dilated and filled. Every day 

 Josephine had driven to Malmaison to visit her flowers, and to-day — the day of their 

 removal hither — she had been granted no moment of repose to satisfy the secret 

 longings of her heart. 



It was now long after the hour of midnight. " Oh ! it had surely grown since 

 yesterday ; the one large bud !'' whispered she with a smile of delight. And her 

 lustrous eyes were fastened admiringly on the still bud which was yet wrapped so 



