t to
Celeste a little fortune of five thousand francs, which was to be paid
to her when she was twenty-one, or on her marriage day.

'Ah,' cried Celeste, weeping, 'can it be true? Can it be true?'

'Of course, since monsieur the notary says so.'

'Ah, madam; let me run and see monsieur the notary. Let me just ask him,
and hear from his lips that it is true!'

So she ran out into the town, with her apron over her head, and Marie
made the breakfast.

The Russian lady came down to talk it over. 'The pretty child is
distraught, and at _so small_ a piece of good fortune!' said she.

But when Celeste came in she was more composed. 'It is true,' she said,
with gentle joy, and she stood before them breathless and blushing.

'It will be three years before you are twenty-one,' said Madame Verine;
'you will remain with me.'

'If you please, madam, no,' said Celeste, modestly casting down her
eyes; 'I must go to my native village.'

'How!' they cried. 'To whom will you go?'

Celeste blushed the more deeply, and twisted her apron. 'I have good
clothes; I have saved my year's wages. I will put up at the inn. The
wife of the innkeeper will be a mother to me now I can pay for my
lodging.'

At which Madame Verine looked at the Russian lady, and that lady looked
at her, and said behind her hand, 'Such a baby, and so clever! It is the
mere instinct of wisdom; it cannot be called forethought.'

It is to be observed that, all the world over, however carefully a
mistress may guard her maid-servant, no great responsibility is felt
when the engagement is broken. Madame Verine shrugged her shoulders and
got another servant. Celeste went down to her village.

After that, when Marie walked in the market-place, she used to like to
look at the notary's house, and at him, if she could espy him in the
street. The house was a fine one, and the notary, in spite of iron-grey
hair and a keen eye, good-looking; but that was not why Marie was
interested; it was because he and his office seemed connected with the
romance of life--with Celeste's good fortune.

When summer days grew long, Madame Verine, her friend and daughter, took
a day's holiday, and out of good nature they went to see Celeste.

'Celeste lives like a grand lady now,' cried the innkeeper's wife, on
being questioned. 'She will have me take her coffee to her in bed each
morning.'

'The wages she has saved will not hold out long,' said the visitors.

'When that is finished