me more vividly than ever, as it stood,
sunny but desolate, under the dazzling light of the September noon. This
association was a little like the one that later established itself for
me between the sad falsetto of the Arab songs, the snowy splendor of
their mosques and the winding-sheet whiteness of their lime-washed
porticos.

That butterfly in all the freshness and radiance of its two strange
colors, mummified, it is true, but as brilliant looking as ever under
its glass, retains for me a sort of old-time charm which I cherish. The
little St. Hermangardes, whom I have not seen for many years, and who
are now attached to an embassy somewhere in the Orient, would
doubtless, should they read this, be much astonished to learn what value
circumstances has given to their little present.

CHAPTER LVII.

The chief event of these winters, so poisoned by my college life, was
the gift-giving festival that we had at New Year.

At about the end of November it was our custom, my sister's, Lucette's
and mine, to make out a list of the things we desired most. Everybody in
the two families prepared surprises for us, and the mystery surrounding
these gifts was our most exquisite pleasure during the last days of the
year. Between parents, grandmother and aunts there occurred, to excite
my curiosity still further, conversations full of mysterious hints, and
whisperings that were hastily discontinued as soon as I appeared.

Between Lucette and me it became a real guessing game. As in the play of
"Words with a double meaning," we had the right to ask certain pointed
questions,--for example we asked the most ridiculous ones, such as: "Has
it hair like an animal?"

And the answers went something after this fashion:

What your father is to give you (a dressing-case made of leather)
had hair, but it has none now, except on some portion of its interior
(brushes), and that is false. Your mamma's present (a fur muff) still
has some hair. What your aunt is to give you (a lamp) will help you to
see the hair on the others better; but, let me see, yes, I am sure that
that has none.

In the December twilights, in that hour between daylight and darkness,
we would sit upon our low stools before the wood-fire, and continue our
series of questions from day to day. We grew ever more eager and excited
until the 31st, and in the evening of that momentous day the mysteries
were revealed.

That day the presents for the two families, wra