t
boarding-school. But what a hurly-burly my life was after that! If you
knew what a youth I had, if you knew how premature experience withered
my mind, and what confusion there was, in my small girl's brain, between
what was and was not forbidden, between reason and folly. Only art,
which was constantly discussed and eulogized, stood erect in all that
ruin, and I took refuge in that. That, perhaps, is why I shall never be
anything but an artist, a woman apart from other women, a poor Amazon
with her heart held captive under her iron breastplate, rushing into
battle like a man, and condemned to live and die like a man."

Why did he not say to her then:

"Beautiful warrior, lay aside your weapons, don the floating robe and
the charms of the sex to which you belong. I love you, I entreat you to
marry me that you may be happy and may make me happy too."

Ah! this is why. He was afraid that the other, he who was to come to
dinner that night, you know, and who remained between them despite his
absence, would hear him speak in that strain and would have the right to
laugh at him or to pity him for such a fervent outburst.

"At all events, I promise you one thing," she continued, "and that is
that if I ever have a daughter, I will try to make a true woman of her
and not such a poor abandoned creature as I am. Oh! you know, my good
Fairy, I do not mean that for you. You have always been kind to your
demon, full of affection and care. Why just look at her, see how pretty
she is, how young she looks to-night."

Enlivened by the repast, the lights, and one of those white dresses
whose reflection causes wrinkles to disappear, La Crenmitz was leaning
back in her chair, holding on a level with her half-closed eyes a glass
of Chateau-Yquem from the cellar of their neighbor the Moulin-Rouge; and
her little pink face, her airy pastel-like costume reflected in the
golden wine, which loaned to it its sparkling warmth, recalled the
former heroine of the dainty suppers after the play, the Crenmitz of the
good old days, not an audacious hussy after the style of our modern
operatic stars, but entirely unaffected and nestling contentedly in her
splendor like a fine pearl in its mother-of-pearl shell. Felicia, who
was certainly determined to be agreeable to everybody that evening, led
her thoughts to the chapter of reminiscences, made her describe once
more her triumphs in _Giselle_ and in the _Peri_, and the ovations from
the audience, th