of a handsome
present. The polite tact of the reader will please to leave out of the
account a brief, secret consultation on this point in Madame's own
chamber.

"What will you have this year?" was asked by her Parisian lieutenant.

"Oh, no matter! Let it alone. Let the poor children keep their francs,"
And Madame looked benign and modest.

The St. Pierre would here protrude her chin; she knew Madame by heart;
she always called her airs of "bonte"--"des grimaces." She never even
professed to respect them one instant.

"Vite!" she would say coldly. "Name the article. Shall it be jewellery
or porcelain, haberdashery or silver?"

"Eh bien! Deux ou trois cuillers, et autant de fourchettes en argent."

And the result was a handsome case, containing 300 francs worth of
plate.

The programme of the fete-day's proceedings comprised: Presentation of
plate, collation in the garden, dramatic performance (with pupils and
teachers for actors), a dance and supper. Very gorgeous seemed the
effect of the whole to me, as I well remember. Zelie St. Pierre
understood these things and managed them ably.

The play was the main point; a month's previous drilling being there
required. The choice, too, of the actors required knowledge and care;
then came lessons in elocution, in attitude, and then the fatigue of
countless rehearsals. For all this, as may well be supposed, St. Pierre
did not suffice: other management, other accomplishments than hers were
requisite here. They were supplied in the person of a master--M. Paul
Emanuel, professor of literature. It was never my lot to be present at
the histrionic lessons of M. Paul, but I often saw him as he crossed
the _carre_ (a square hall between the dwelling-house and
school-house). I heard him, too, in the warm evenings, lecturing with
open doors, and his name, with anecdotes of him, resounded in ones ears
from all sides. Especially our former acquaintance, Miss Ginevra
Fanshawe,--who had been selected to take a prominent part in the
play--used, in bestowing upon me a large portion of her leisure, to
lard her discourse with frequent allusions to his sayings and doings.
She esteemed him hideously plain, and used to profess herself
frightened almost into hysterics at the sound of his step or voice. A
dark little man he certainly was; pungent and austere. Even to me he
seemed a harsh apparition, with his close-shorn, black head, his broad,
sallow brow, his thin cheek, his wide and quive