e Rue
Pagevin, had presented herself, under pretext of neighborhood, to Buvat
and his ward, and, after a little while, invited them both to pass
Sunday evenings with her.

The invitation was given with so good a grace that there was no means of
refusing it, and, indeed, Buvat was delighted that some opportunity of
amusement should be presented to Bathilde; besides, as he knew that
Madame Denis had two daughters, perhaps he was not sorry to enjoy that
triumph which his paternal pride assured him Bathilde could not fail to
obtain over Mademoiselle Emilie and Mademoiselle Athenais. However,
things did not pass exactly as he had arranged them. Bathilde soon saw
the mediocrity of her rivals, so that when they spoke of drawing, and
called on her to admire some heads by these young ladies, she pretended
to have nothing in the house that she could show, while Buvat knew that
there were in her portfolio two heads, one of the infant Jesus, and one
of St. John, both charming; but this was not all--the Misses Denis sang;
and when they asked Bathilde to sing, she chose a simple little romance
in two verses, which lasted five minutes, instead of the grand scene
which Buvat had expected.

However, this conduct appeared singularly to increase the regard of
Madame Denis for the young girl, for Madame Denis was not without some
uneasiness with respect to the event of an artistic struggle between the
young people. Bathilde was overwhelmed with caresses by the good woman,
who, when she was gone, declared she was full of talents and modesty,
and that she well deserved all the praises lavished upon her. A retired
silk-mercer raised her voice to recall the strange position of the tutor
and the pupil, but Madame Denis imposed silence on this malicious tongue
by declaring that she knew the whole history from beginning to end, and
that it did the greatest honor to both her neighbors. It was a small
lie, however, of good Madame Denis, but it was doubtless pardoned in
consideration of the intention.

As to Boniface, in company he was dumb and a nonentity; he had been this
evening so remarkably stupid that Bathilde had hardly noticed him at
all.

But it was not thus with Boniface, who, having admired Bathilde from a
distance, became quite crazy about her when he saw her near. He began to
sit constantly at his window, which obliged Bathilde to keep hers
closed; for it will be remembered that Boniface then inhabited the room
now occupied by the