cognize, from the airs and elegance of
the young woman, that she was the daughter of the house, Mademoiselle
Reine Gobillot, the one whose passion for fashion-plates had excited
Mademoiselle de Corandeuil's anger. She sat as straight and rigid
upon her stool as a Prussian corporal carrying arms, and maintained an
excessively gracious smile upon her lips, while she made her bust more
prominent by drawing back her shoulders as far as she could.

The young painter, on the contrary, was seated with artistic abandon,
balancing himself upon a two-legged chair with his heels resting against
the mantel; he was dressed in a black velvet coat, and a very small Tam
O'Shanter cap of the same material covered the right side of his head,
allowing a luxuriant crop of brown hair to be seen upon the other side.
This head-dress, accompanied by long moustaches and a pointed beard
covering only his chin, gave the stranger's face the mediaeval look
he probably desired. This travelling artist was sketching in an album
placed upon his knees, with a freedom which indicated perfect confidence
in his own talents. A cigar, skilfully held in one corner of his mouth,
did not prevent him from warbling between each puff some snatches of
Italian airs of which he seemed to possess a complete repertoire. In
spite of this triple occupation he sustained a conversation with the
ease of a man who, like Caesar, could have dictated to three secretaries
at once if necessary.

"Dell' Assiria, ai semidei
Aspirar--"

"I have already asked you not to purse up your mouth so, Mademoiselle
Reine; it gives you a Watteau air radically bourgeois."

"What sort of air does it give me?" she asked, anxiously.

"A Watteau, Regence, Pompadour air. You have a large mouth, and we will
leave it natural, if you please."

"I have a large mouth!" exclaimed Reine, blushing with anger; "how
polite you are!"

And she pinched up her lips until she reduced them to nearly the size of
Montmorency cherries.

"Stop this vulgar way of judging of art, queen of my heart. Learn that
there is nothing more appetizing than a large mouth. I do not care for
rosebud mouths!"

"If it is the fashion!" murmured the young girl, in a pleased tone,
as she spread out horizontally her vermillion lips, which might have
extended from ear to ear, not unlike--if we can credit that slanderer,
Bussy-Rabutin-the amorous smile of Mademoiselle de la Valliere.

"Why did you not let me