and appearance, gray-bearded and gray-haired, and
clumping always in _sabots_ over the stone floors, except in the _salon_
in the evening. But her eyes were only for him; and the only occasion on
which any of her own uninteresting sex had her attention was when Madame
Boulanger pouted and pretended to be jealous, or some Relict showed
pique that our only Monsieur was monopolized by our only Maiden. Then
she smiled archly, cooed sweetly, and arched her ancient neck with
visible triumph.

Before we left the _pension bourgeoise_ our front door was hung with
heavy black curtains, and our Maiden passed forth into the broad day for
the first time in ten years. She went out unsmiling, uncooing, without
flutter or quirk, and no date upon her pine coffin, for with her last
breath she had forbidden it.

"Nobody need know that I have lived more than fifty years," she
murmured; "and don't let Monsieur Boulanger look at me when I am dead."

One of our widows--Madame Notte--was almost stone-deaf. She was a
dwarfish creature, passionately fond of cards, waxing into terrible
tempers over them, and with only one interest in life,--worshipful love
of her only son, a not too beautiful _citoyen_ of fifty. This son fell
ill and died. Poor Madame Notte knew of his illness, but not of its
danger and final end. It was thought best to keep from her the knowledge
that she was childless, lest the shock should be too great for her frail
strength. She was told he had gone to Italy for his health; and when
his widow and daughters came twice each week to visit her, they left
their weeds at home, came in a close carriage in their gayest attire,
and laughed and talked to her blithely with heavy hearts. All about the
poor old mother we talked openly and freely of her loss and our pity,
and she sat as unwitting as stone of it all. But when we put our mouths
to her ear and asked for her son, a beautiful change always dawned upon
the leaden countenance. "He has gone away," she invariably
smiled,--"gone to a better country, where it is always summer. When I
see him again he will be well, quite well." She, too, passed under the
heavy black curtains that winter; and from our hearts we prayed that all
was well with them in that better country where it is always summer.

One of our Relicts prided herself upon her English, and criticised ours.
"They speak English fairly well: I can _understand_ them," I once heard
her say of us to a group of Relicts in the ga