rosy
mouth animated by a little quiver of attention, repeating ten times in
succession: "Louis, surnamed le Hutin, 1314-1316; Philip V, surnamed
the Long, 1316-1322. Ah, Bonne Maman, it's no good; I shall never know
them." Whereupon Bonne Maman would come to her assistance, help her
to concentrate her attention, to store up a few of those dates of the
Middle Ages, barbarous and sharp as the helmets of the warriors of the
period. And in the intervals of these occupations, of this general
and constant superintendence, she yet found time to do some pretty
needlework, to extract from her work-basket some delicate crochet lace
or a piece of tapestry on which she was engaged and to which she clung
as closely as the young Elise to her history of France. Even when she
talked, her fingers never remained unoccupied for a moment.

"Do you never take any rest?" said de Gery to her, as she counted under
her breath the stitches of her tapestry, "three, four, five," to secure
the right variation in the shading of the colours.

"But this is a rest from work," she answered. "You men cannot understand
how good needlework is for a woman's mind. It gives order to the
thoughts, fixes by a stitch the moment that passes what would otherwise
pass with it. And how many griefs are calmed, anxieties forgotten,
thanks to this wholly physical act of attention, to this repetition of
an even movement, in which one finds--of necessity and very quickly--the
equilibrium of one's whole being. It does not hinder me from following
the conversation around me, from listening to you still better than I
should if I were doing something. Three, four, five."

Oh, yes, she listened. That was apparent in the animation of her face,
in the way in which she would suddenly straighten herself as she sat,
needle in air, the thread taut over her raised little finger. Then she
would quickly resume her work, sometimes after putting in a thoughtful
word, which agreed generally with the opinions of friend Paul.

An affinity of nature, responsibilities and duties similar in character,
drew these two young people together, interested each of them in the
other's occupations. She knew the names of his two brothers Pierre and
Louis, his plans for their future when they should have left school.
Pierre wanted to be a sailor. "Oh, no, not a sailor," Bonne Maman would
say, "it will be much better for him to come to Paris with you." And
when he admitted that he was afraid of Paris