woodwork of one of them, and waited. On my left stretched a solitude
seldom troubled by the few visitors who risk themselves in the realms of
pen and pencil. These, too, only came to get fresh air, or to look down
on the many-colored crowd moving among the white statues below.

At my right, on the contrary, the battling currents of the crowd kept
passing and repassing, the provincial element easily distinguished by
its jaded demeanor. Stout, exhausted matrons, breathless fathers of
families, crowded the sofas, raising discouraged glances to the walls,
while around them turned and tripped, untiring as at a dance, legions
of Parisiennes, at ease, on their high heels, equally attentive to the
pictures, their own carriage, and their neighbors' gowns.

O peaceful functionaries, you whose business it is to keep an eye upon
this ferment! unless the ceaseless flux of these human phenomena lull
you to a trance, what a quantity of silly speeches you must hear! I
picked up twenty in as many minutes.

Suddenly there came a sound of little footsteps in the gallery. Two
little girls had just come in, two sisters, doubtless, for both had
the same black eyes, pink dresses, and white feathers in their hats.
Hesitating, with outstretched necks, like fawns on the border of a
glade, they seemed disappointed at the unexpected length of the gallery.
They looked at each other and whispered. Then both smiled, and turning
their backs on each other, they set off, one to the right, the other to
the left, to examine the drawings which covered the walls. They made a
rapid examination, with which art had obviously little to do; they were
looking for something, and I thought it might be for Jeanne's portrait.
And so it turned out; the one on my side soon came to a stop, pointed
a finger to the wall, and gave a little cry. The other ran up; they
clapped their hands.

"Bravo, bravo!"

Then off they went again through the farther door.

I guessed what they were about to do.

I trembled from head to foot, and hid myself farther behind the
curtains.

Not a minute elapsed before they were back, not two this time, but
three, and the third was Jeanne, whom they were pulling along between
them.

They brought her up to Lampron's sketch, and curtsied neatly to her.

Jeanne bent down, smiled, and seemed pleased. Then, a doubt seizing her,
she turned her head and saw me. The smile died away; she blushed, a tear
seemed ready to start to her eyes. Oh,