woman,
proud of her beauty and jealous of its decay, does not easily forgive.
I was admired and paid great attention to by the officers, much more
attention than she received herself.

"M. Chatenoeuf," the officers would say, "you have begotten a daughter
much handsomer than yourself." My mother considered this as a polite
way to avoid saying that I was much handsomer than she was. If she
thought so, she did herself a great injustice, for I could not be
compared to what she was, when she was of my age. She was even then a
most splendid matron. But I had youth in my favour, which is more than
half the battle. At all events, the remarks and attentions of the
officers aroused my mother's spleen, and she was more harsh in language
than ever, although I admit that it was but seldom that she resorted to
blows.

I recollect that one day, when I was not supposed to be in hearing, one
of the officers said to another, "Ma foi, elle est jolie--elle a besoin
de deux ans, et elle sera parfaite." So childish and innocent was I at
that time, that I could not imagine what they meant.

"Why was I to be two years older?" I thought, and puzzled over it till
I fell fast asleep. The attentions of the officers, and the flattery he
received from them on my account, appeared to have more effect on my
father than I could have imagined. Perhaps he felt that I was somebody
to be proud of, and his vanity gave him that courage to oppose my
mother, which his paternal feelings had not roused. I recollect one
instance particularly. There was a great ceremony to be performed in
the church, no less than the christening of the two new bells, previous
to their being hoisted up in the belfry. The officers told my father
that I must be present, and on his return home he stated to my mother
his intention of taking me with him on the following day to see the
ceremony.

"She can't go--she has no clothes fit to wear," cried my mother.

"Why has she not, madame?" replied my father, sternly. "Let her have
some ready for to-morrow, and without fail."

My mother perceived that my father was not to be trifled with, and
therefore thought proper to acquiesce. Pity it was that he did not use
his authority a little more, after he had discovered that he could
regain it if he pleased.

On the following day I accompanied my father, who was one of the
officers on duty in the interior of the church, and as he stood in
advance of his men, I remained at