d very little himself, and
followed with his eye the gilded glance of Paulina's thimble; as if it
had been some bright moth on the wing, or the golden head of some
darting little yellow serpent.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A BURIAL.

From this date my life did not want variety; I went out a good deal,
with the entire consent of Madame Beck, who perfectly approved the
grade of my acquaintance. That worthy directress had never from the
first treated me otherwise than with respect; and when she found that I
was liable to frequent invitations from a chateau and a great hotel,
respect improved into distinction.

Not that she was fulsome about it: Madame, in all things worldly, was
in nothing weak; there was measure and sense in her hottest pursuit of
self-interest, calm and considerateness in her closest clutch of gain;
without, then, laying herself open to my contempt as a time-server and
a toadie, she marked with tact that she was pleased people connected
with her establishment should frequent such associates as must
cultivate and elevate, rather than those who might deteriorate and
depress. She never praised either me or my friends; only once when she
was sitting in the sun in the garden, a cup of coffee at her elbow and
the Gazette in her hand, looking very comfortable, and I came up and
asked leave of absence for the evening, she delivered herself in this
gracious sort:--

"Oui, oui, ma bonne amie: je vous donne la permission de coeur et de
gre. Votre travail dans ma maison a toujours ete admirable, rempli de
zele et de discretion: vous avez bien le droit de vous amuser. Sortez
donc tant que vous voudrez. Quant a votre choix de connaissances, j'en
suis contente; c'est sage, digne, laudable."

She closed her lips and resumed the Gazette.

The reader will not too gravely regard the little circumstance that
about this time the triply-enclosed packet of five letters temporarily
disappeared from my bureau. Blank dismay was naturally my first
sensation on making the discovery; but in a moment I took heart of
grace.

"Patience!" whispered I to myself. "Let me say nothing, but wait
peaceably; they will come back again."

And they did come back: they had only been on a short visit to Madame's
chamber; having passed their examination, they came back duly and
truly: I found them all right the next day.

I wonder what she thought of my correspondence? What estimate did she
form of Dr. John Bretton's epistolary powers? In