Etymology of the Rue De La Jussienne.

Rémy took his patient by the arm, and led him by the Rue Coquillière down to the rampart.

“It is strange,” said Bussy, “you take me near the marsh of the Grange–Batelier, and call it healthy.”

“Oh, monsieur, a little patience; we are going to turn round the Rue Pagavin, and get into the Rue Montmartre — you will see what a fine street that is.”

“As if I do not know it.”

“Well, so much the better; I need not lose time in showing you its beauties, and I will lead you at once into a pretty little street.”

Indeed, after going a few steps down the Rue Montmartre, they turned to the right.

“This,” said Rémy, “is the Rue de la Gypecienne, or Egyptienne, which you like; often called by the people the Rue de la Gyssienne, or Jussienne.”

“Very likely; but where are we going?”

“Do you see that little church?” said Rémy. “How nicely it is situated; I dare say you never remarked it before.”

“No, I did not know it.”

“Well, now that you have seen the exterior, enter and look at the windows — they are very curious.”

There was such a pleased smile on the young man’s face, that Bussy felt sure there must have been some other reason for making him enter than to look at the windows which it was too dark to see. The chapel was lighted, however, for service, and Rémy began examining a fresco of the Virgin Mary, which was a continual source of complaint to the women who frequented the church, as they said that it attracted the attention of the young shopkeepers away from them.

“You had some other object in bringing me here than that I should admire the St. Marie, had you not?”

“Ma foi! no.”

“Then let us go.”

“Wait a moment; the service is finishing.”

“Now let us go,” said Bussy; “they are moving;” and he walked to the door.

“At least take some holy water.”

Bussy obeyed, and Rémy making a sign to a woman who stood near, she advanced, and Bussy grew suddenly pale, for he recognized Gertrude. She saluted him and passed on, but behind her came a figure which, although closely veiled, made his heart beat fast. Rémy looked at him, and Bussy knew now why he had brought him to this church. Bussy followed the lady, and Rémy followed him. Gertrude had walked on before, until she came to an alley closed by a door. She opened it, and let her mistress pass. Bussy followed, and the two others disappeared.

It was half-past seven in the evening, and near the beginning of May; the air began to have the feeling of spring, and the leaves were beginning to unfold themselves. Bussy looked round him, and found himself in a little garden fifty feet square, surrounded by high walls covered with vines and moss. The first lilacs which had begun to open in the morning sun sent out their sweet emanations, and the young man felt tempted to think that so much perfume and warmth and life came to him only from the presence of the woman he loved so tenderly.

On a little wooden bench sat Diana, twisting in her fingers a sprig of wall-flower, which she had picked, without knowing what she did. As Bussy approached her, she raised her head, and said timidly, “M. le Comte, all deception would be unworthy of us; if you found me at the church of St. Marie l’Egyptienne, it was not chance that brought you there.”

“No, madame; Rémy took me out without my knowing where I was going, and I swear to you that I was ignorant ——”

“You do not understand me, monsieur, I know well that M. Rémy brought you there, by force, perhaps.”

“No, madame, not by force; I did not know that he was going to take me to see any one.”

“That is a harsh speech,” said Diana, sadly, and with tears in her eyes. “Do you mean that had you known, you would not have come?”

“Oh, madame!”

“It would have been but just, monsieur; you did me a great service, and I have not thanked you. Pardon me, and receive all my thanks.”

“Madame ——” Bussy stopped; he felt so overcome, that he had neither words nor ideas.

“But I wished to prove to you,” continued Diana, “that I am not ungrateful, nor forgetful. It was I who begged M. Rémy to procure for me the honor of this interview; it was I who sought for it, forgive me if I have displeased you.”

“Oh, madame! you cannot think that.”

“I know,” continued Diana, who was the strongest, because she had prepared herself for this interview, “how much trouble you had in fulfilling my commission; I know all your delicacy; I know it and appreciate it, believe me. Judge, then, what I must have suffered from the idea that you would misunderstand the sentiments of my heart.”

“Madame, I have been ill for three days.”

“Oh! I know,” cried Diana, with a rising color, “and I suffered more than you, for M. Rémy, he deceived me, no doubt; for he made me believe ——&rdqu............