s and months passed on in this way without any other change in their
lives than that which naturally grew out of an increasing estrangement
between Moronval and his professor of literature. The principal, daily
expecting a decision from Ida on the subject of the Review, suspected
D'Argenton of influencing her against the project, and this belief he
ended by expressing to the poet.

One morning, Jack, who now went out but rarely, looked out of the
windows with longing eyes. The spring sunshine was so bright, the sky so
blue, that he longed for liberty and out-door life.

The leaf-buds of the lilacs were swelling, and the flower-beds in the
garden were gently upheaved, as if with the movements of invisible life.

From the lane without came the sounds of children at play, and of
singing-birds, all revelling in the sunshine. It was one of those days
when every window is thrown open to let in the light and air, and to
drive away all wintry shadows, all that blackness imparted by the length
of the nights and the smoke of the fires.

While Jack was longing for wings, the door-bell rang, and his mother
entered in great haste and much agitated, although dressed with great
care. She came for him to breakfast with her in the Bois, and would not
bring him back until night. He must ask Moronval's permission first; but
as Ida brought the quarterly payment, you may imagine that permission
was easily granted.

"How jolly!" cried Jack; "how jolly!" and while his mother casually
informed Moronval that M. d'Argenton had told her the evening previous
that he was summoned to Auvergne, to his aunt who was dying, the boy ran
to change his dress. On his way he met Madou, who, sad and lonely, was
busy with his pails and brooms, and had not had time to find out that
the air was soft and the sunshipe warm. On seeing him, Jack had a bright
idea.

"O, mamma, if we could take Madou!"

This permission was a little difficult to procure, so multifarious were
the duties of the prince; but Jack was so persistent that kind Madame
Moronval agreed for that day to assume the black boy's place.

"Madou! Madou!" cried the child, rushing toward him. "Quick, dress
yourself and come out in the carriage with us; we are going to
breakfast in the Bois!"

There was a moment of confusion. Madou stood still in amazement, while
Madame Moronval borrowed a tunic that would be suitable for him in this
emergency. Little Jack danced with joy, while Madame de Baranc