ain in the
chair before an English governess could have said, "Good-morning, my
dears, I hope you all slept well last night."

I began again. Up jumped mademoiselle for the second time, and tripped
across the room to a cheval-glass. "No!" I heard her say to herself, "I
have not discomposed my head in kissing my angels. I may come back and
pose for my picture."

Back she came. I worked from her for five minutes at the most. "Stop!"
cries mademoiselle, jumping up for the third time; "I must see how this
skillful artist is getting on. _Grand Dieu!_ why he has done nothing!"

For the fourth time I began, and for the fourth time the old lady
started out of her chair. "Now I must repose myself," said mademoiselle,
walking lightly from end to end of the room, and humming a French air,
by way of taking a rest.

I was at my wit's end, and the young ladies saw it. They all surrounded
my unmanageable sitter, and appealed to her compassion for me.
"Certainly!" said mademoiselle, expressing astonishment by flinging
up both her hands with all the fingers spread out in the air. "But why
apostrophize me thus? I am here, I am ready, I am at the service of this
skillful artist. Why apostrophize me?"

A fortunate chance question of mine steadied her for some time. I
inquired if I was expected to draw the whole of my sitter's figure as
well as her face. Mademoiselle replied by a comic scream of indignation.
If I was the brave and gifted man for whom she took me, I ought to be
ready to perish rather than leave out an inch of her anywhere. Dress was
her passion, and it would be an outrage on her sentiments if I did not
do full justice to everything she had on--to her robe, to her lace, to
her scarf, to her fan, to her rings, her jewels, and, above all, to her
bracelets. I groaned in spirit at the task before me, but made my best
bow of acquiescence. Mademoiselle was not to be satisfied by a mere bow;
she desired the pleasure of specially directing my attention, if I would
be so amiable as to get up and approach her, to one of her bracelets in
particular--the bracelet with the miniature, on her left wrist. It had
been the gift of the dearest friend she ever had, and the miniature
represented that friend's beloved and beautiful face. Could I make
a tiny, tiny copy of that likeness in my drawing! Would I only be so
obliging as to approach for one little moment, and see if such a thing
were possible?

I obeyed unwillingly enough, expectin