of the Vosges, a peasant in the fullest sense of the word, lean, brown,
with shining black hair and thick eyebrows joining in a tuft, with long,
strong arms, thick feet, and some moles on her narrow simian face--such
is a brief description of the elderly virgin.

The family, living all under one roof, had sacrificed the common-looking
girl to the beauty, the bitter fruit to the splendid flower. Lisbeth
worked in the fields, while her cousin was indulged; and one day, when
they were alone together, she had tried to destroy Adeline's nose, a
truly Greek nose, which the old mothers admired. Though she was beaten
for this misdeed, she persisted nevertheless in tearing the favorite's
gowns and crumpling her collars.

At the time of Adeline's wonderful marriage, Lisbeth had bowed to fate,
as Napoleon's brothers and sisters bowed before the splendor of the
throne and the force of authority.

Adeline, who was extremely sweet and kind, remembered Lisbeth when she
found herself in Paris, and invited her there in 1809, intending to
rescue her from poverty by finding her a husband. But seeing that it was
impossible to marry the girl out of hand, with her black eyes and sooty
brows, unable, too, to read or write, the Baron began by apprenticing
her to a business; he placed her as a learner with the embroiderers to
the Imperial Court, the well-known Pons Brothers.

Lisbeth, called Betty for short, having learned to embroider in gold
and silver, and possessing all the energy of a mountain race, had
determination enough to learn to read, write, and keep accounts; for her
cousin the Baron had pointed out the necessity for these accomplishments
if she hoped to set up in business as an embroiderer.

She was bent on making a fortune; in two years she was another creature.
In 1811 the peasant woman had become a very presentable, skilled, and
intelligent forewoman.

Her department, that of gold and silver lace-work, as it is called,
included epaulettes, sword-knots, aiguillettes; in short, the immense
mass of glittering ornaments that sparkled on the rich uniforms of the
French army and civil officials. The Emperor, a true Italian in his love
of dress, had overlaid the coats of all his servants with silver and
gold, and the Empire included a hundred and thirty-three Departments.
These ornaments, usually supplied to tailors who were solvent and
wealthy paymasters, were a very secure branch of trade.

Just when Cousin Betty, the best