ensive, too. Trained in
the personal economy of English middle-class life, it would never have
occurred to me to buy several francs' worth of sugar-plums and to eat
them by the handful. But as the fair American sat before me, smiling,
laughing, petting Amy and saying fascinating impertinences to myself, I
thought I had never seen so bewitching a creature. Her frame, though
_svelte_ and admirably proportioned, gave me an idea of vigor and
strength not commonly associated at that time with the girls of America.
Her complexion, too, was healthy: she was not so highly colored as an
English country girl, but her skin was bright and clear. Her face was a
perfect oval, her hair glossy and dark, her eyes expressive hazel. Her
points were all good: her ears, her hands, her feet, her upper lip and
nostrils showed blood, and the daintiness and taste of her rich dress
seemed to denote her good taste and fine breeding. My sisters, could not
tie their bonnet-strings as she tied hers, nor were their dresses
anything like hers in freshness, fit or daintiness of trimming.

We alighted at last at old Monceaux, and walked about its solemn alleys.
Sometimes Miss Leare talked sense, and talked it well. Those were
exciting days in Paris. It was February, 1848, and a great crisis was
nearer at hand in politics than we suspected; besides which there had
been several events in private life which had increased the general
excitement of the period--notably the murder of Marshal Sebastiani's
daughter, the poor duchesse de Praslin. Hermione could talk of these
things with great spirit, but sometimes relapsed into her grown-up
childishness. She talked, too, with animation of the freedom and
happiness of her American girlhood. My sister Amy had always taken life
_au grand serieux_; Ellen was a little too prompt to flirt with officers
and gay young men, and needed repression; Laetitia went in for
book-learning, and measured every one by what she called their
"educational opportunities." My sisters were as different as possible
from this butterfly creature, who seemed to sip interest and amusement
out of everything.

At the end of two hours we drove back to Mrs. Leare's hotel, which was
opposite our own apartment in the Rue Neuve de Berri, the hotel that a
few weeks later was occupied by Prince Jerome. Here Hermione insisted
upon our coming in while the carriage drove to the dentist's for her
mother.

The reception-rooms in Mrs. Leare's hotel were v