er.

"Were you at the Vaudeville last night?" asked Pauline.

"Oh, it was simply marvellous!" repeated Juliette in parrot-fashion,
as, standing before a mirror, she rearranged a rebellious curl.

"It is annoying to be so young; one can't go to anything!" said
Pauline, pouting like a spoiled child. "I went with papa to the
theatre-door at midnight, to find out how the piece had taken."

"Yes, and we tumbled upon Malignon," said the father.

"He was extremely pleased with it."

"Really!" exclaimed Juliette. "He was here a minute ago, and declared
it vile. One never knows how to take him."

"Have you had many visitors to-day?" asked Pauline, rushing off to
another subject.

"Oh, several ladies; quite a crowd! The room was never once empty. I'm
dead-beat--"

Here she abruptly broke off, remembering she had a formal introduction
to make

"My father, my sister--Madame Grandjean."

The conversation was turning on children and the ailments which give
mothers so much worry when Miss Smithson, an English governess,
appeared with a little boy clinging to her hand. Madame Deberle
scolded her in English for having kept them waiting.

"Ah! here's my little Lucien!" exclaimed Pauline as she dropped on her
knees before the child, with a great rustling of skirts.

"Now, now, leave him alone!" said Juliette. "Come here, Lucien; come
and say good-day to this little lady."

The boy came forward very sheepishly. He was no more than seven years
old, fat and dumpy, and dressed as coquettishly as a doll. As he saw
that they were all looking at him with smiles, he stopped short, and
surveyed Jeanne, his blue eyes wide open with astonishment.

"Go on!" urged his mother.

He turned his eyes questioningly on her and advanced a step, evincing
all the sullenness peculiar to lads of his age, his head lowered, his
thick lips pouting, and his eyebrows bent into a growing frown. Jeanne
must have frightened him with the serious look she wore standing there
in her black dress. She had not ceased holding her mother's hand, and
was nervously pressing her fingers on the bare part of the arm between
the sleeve and glove. With head lowered she awaited Lucien's approach
uneasily, like a young and timid savage, ready to fly from his caress.
But a gentle push from her mother prompted her to step forward.

"Little lady, you will have to kiss him first," Madame Deberle said
laughingly. "Ladies always have to begin with him. Oh! the little
stup