ip of the heaven of Paris, and the remembrance of those
glorious evenings only illumined with a fugitive gleam the walls of her
dungeon.

V.

But she was then happy, between her aunt Angelique and her mother, in
what she calls the beautiful quarter of the Isle Saint Louis. On these
straight quays, on this tranquil bank, she took the air on summer
evenings, watching the graceful course of the river, and the distant
landscape. In the morning she traversed these quays with holy zeal, in
order to go to church, and that she might not meet in this lone road any
thing to distract her attention. Her father, who liked her lofty
studies, and was intoxicated at his daughter's success, was still
desirous of initiating her in his own craft, and made her begin to
engrave. She learned to handle the _burin_, and succeeded in this as in
every thing else. As yet she did not derive any salary from it; but at
the fete of her grandfather and grandmother, she presented to them as
her offering, sometimes a head, which she had applied herself to execute
for this express purpose, sometimes a small brass plate, highly
polished, on which she had engraved emblems or flowers; and they in
return gave her ornaments or something for her toilette, for which she
confesses always to have been anxious.

This taste, natural to her age and sex, did not, however, distract her
from the more humble domestic duties. She was not ashamed, after
appearing on Sundays at church, or walking out elegantly dressed, to put
on during the week a cotton gown, and go to market with her mother. She
used even to go out to shops in their neighbourhood to buy parsley or
salad, which had been forgotten. Although she felt herself somewhat
humiliated by these domestic cares, which brought her down from the
eminence of her Plutarch, and her visionary wanderings, she combined so
much grace, and so much natural dignity, that the fruit-woman used to
take pleasure in serving her before her other customers; and the first
comers took no offence at this preference. This young girl, this future
Heloise of the eighteenth century, who read serious books, who expounded
the circles of the celestial globe, handled the pencil and _burin_, and
in whose soul-aspiring thoughts and impassioned feelings already found
space, was often called into the kitchen to prepare the vegetables for
dinner. This mixture of serious shades, elegant research, and domestic
occupations, ordered and sensibly mingl