found in any of our modern novels. And
really that love-making in the morning of
time, in the groves of Paradise, it must have
been quite out of the common way!

Ah, there breathes still in this world—
several thousand years old though it be—
a gentle gale of the spring-time of Paradise,
through the life of every man, at the moment
when he says, "I love! I am beloved!"

Yes. It thrills through every happy son
of Adam at the moment when he finds his
Eve. But Adam himself was, in one respect,
better off than any of his sons; for as there
was only one Eve, he could make no mistake;
neither could she, on her side, have either
choice or repentance. But we—our name is
Legion, and it is not easy for us to discover
who, in the swarm of the children of Adam,
is the right partner for us. If every one
would seriously confess his experience in this
respect, it would no doubt be both instructive
and amusing. And as I know no other way
in which I can instruct or amuse the world,
I will now sincerely confess what mistakes I
made when I searched for my Eve, whom I
first adored in the person of Rose Ervan.

I want words to describe her. She had
fascinated me when I was but a cadet; she
bewitched me before I had left the fourth
class. And, of a truth, there never did exist
a young lady more dangerous to a youth
of lively imagination. Her coquetry was so
natural, so mixed with goodness and childish
grace, that it was impossible to regard it as
anything more than the most angelic
innocence. At the Military Academy, I saw in
my books her name, and nothing besides. If
I drew plans of fortifications and fortresses,
Rose stood in the middle of my circles and
quadrants, and the only line that I perceived
clearly was the road that led to her home:
the verdurous Greendale.

Greendale was a cheerful place, where there
were always guests and parties. And when
the young people wished to have an excursion
on the water, or any other entertainment, I it
was who always planned everything, and
proposed it to the old Baroness, the mother, for
whom all the children entertained a very
considerable and wholesome respect. On these
occasions she used to say, "My dear sir, if
you are with the children, I will permit it;
for I trust to you, and I know that you will
take care of them."

"Yes, to be sure! " I replied, though the
truth was, I could not take care of myself;
and never took notice of anybody, or of
anything, excepting Rose.

Many a one was fascinated just as I was
fascinated; but I persuaded myself that I
was the only lucky fellow who had her
preference. Once I was made terribly jealous.
A certain Mr. T. (a professor of languages, I
believe) came to Greendale, played, sung, and
chattered French; and immediately Rose forgot
me, to chat, and play, and sing with Mr. T.,
making herself altogether as charming to him
as she had hitherto been to me. I was desperate;
went away over meadows and fields; saw
neither hedges nor gates, stumbled into ditches
and brooks, and reached home furious as a
blunderbuss. But, behold! Mr. T. was gone,
and Rose was again charming to me, and I
was instantly as much under her fascination
as ever, fully convinced that it was all my
fault, and that I was a Turk, a monster—nay,
quite an Othello of jealousy.

After I had sighed and burned a considerable
time, I made up my mind to proceed to
the declaration of my love. It is true I was
still very young, not three-and-twenty; but I
thought myself quite old enough, being a
lieutenant, the son of a father who always
spoke of "my wife" as the greatest happiness
of his life; besides which, I had derived from
my home the most beautiful impressions of
domestic life. Hence I always represented to
myself the highest good in the world under
the image of "my wife."

Having duly considered the various forms
of love proposals, I went one fine day to
Greendale, carrying with me, and near to my
heart, a moss-rose in a garden-pot. The roads
were execrable, and I was well-nigh shaken
to pieces; but the smile of my beautiful Rose
would, I was well assured, reward me for all
my trouble. In imagination I heard myself
constantly asseverating "I love you!" and
heard her as constantly replying "I love
you!" As regarded our domestic establishment,
I had not as yet thought as much about
it as one of our favourite bards, who, before
he married, provided himself with a cask of
flour, a coffee-pot, and a frying-pan. I thought
only of "a cottage and a heart." I saw around
my cottage multitudes of roses, and within it
my Rose and myself. As for everything else, all
would be provided for by my excellent father.

As soon as I arrived at Greendale, I found
there two other gentlemen quite as much in love,
and quite as much enchanted by the fascinating
young lady, as I was. I pitied the
unfortunate youths, because they had infatuated
themselves with the hope of a happiness
which no one, I believed, should aspire to
but myself. We were all old acquaintances;
and, as it is not our habit to put our light
under a bushel, I was determined to give
my rivals a little hint of my advantageous
prospects.

I raised, therefore, somewhat the veil which
had concealed my modest confidence. But
then came curious revelations! My rivals,
animated by my example, lifted likewise the
veil from their respective prospects; and,
behold, we all three stood in precisely the
same position. We all sighed; we all hoped;
we all had souvenirs that we kissed in secret;
and they all were, as it were, serpents, and
bit their own tails.

At these unexpected revelations we all
exclaimed, "Ah!" and left Greendale together,
each going his own way. My father was a
little surprised to see me return so soon.