ady
of extreme beauty--ideal beauty; but she had red hair, or rather hair
shining like gold! Oh! it was charming to look at! I never saw such hair
before. She had black eyes, ruddy lips, and her skin seemed white as
snow. This is all I can recollect: for, as I said before, I was so
dazzled, I seemed to be looking through a veil. 'Madame,' said the young
woman, whom I never should have taken for a lady's-maid, she was dressed
so elegantly, 'here is Frisky. This gentleman found him, and brought him
back.' 'Oh, sir,' said the young lady with the golden hair, in a sweet
silvery voice, 'what thanks I owe you! I am foolishly attached to
Frisky.' Then, no doubt, concluding from my dress that she ought to thank
me in some other way than by words, she took up a silk purse, and said to
me, though I must confess with some hesitation--'No doubt, sir, it gave
you some trouble to bring my pet back. You have, perhaps, lost some
valuable time--allow me--' She held forth her purse."

"Oh, Agricola," said Mother Bunch, sadly; "how people may be deceived!"

"Hear the end, and you will perhaps forgive the young lady. Seeing by my
looks that the offer of the purse hurt me, she took a magnificent
porcelain vase that contained this flower, and, addressing me in a tone
full of grace and kindness, that left me room to guess that she was vexed
at having wounded me, she said--'At least, sir, you will accept this
flower.'"

"You are right, Agricola," said the girl, smiling sadly; "an involuntary
error could not be repaired in a nicer way.

"Worthy young lady," said Frances, wiping her eyes; "how well she
understood my Agricola!"

"Did she not, mother? But just as I was taking the flower, without daring
to raise my eyes (for, notwithstanding the young lady's kind manner,
there was something very imposing about her) another handsome girl, tall
and dark, and dressed to the top of fashion, came in and said to the
red-haired young lady, 'He is here, Madame.' She immediately rose and
said to me, 'A thousand pardons, sir. I shall never forget that I am
indebted to you for a moment of much pleasure. Pray remember, on all
occasions, my address and name--Adrienne de Cardoville.' Thereupon she
disappeared. I could not find a word to say in reply. The same young
woman showed me to the door, and curtseyed to me very politely. And there
I stood in the Rue de Babylone, as dazzled and astonished as if I had
come out of an enchanted palace."

"Indeed, my ch