iage roams continually in houses with
grown-up girls, and takes every shape and disguise, and employs every
subterfuge. A dread of compromising myself took hold of me as well as an
extreme timidity before the obstinately correct and reserved attitude
of the Misses Louise and Pauline. To choose one of them in preference
to the other seemed to me as difficult as choosing between two drops of
water; and then the fear of launching myself into an affair which might,
in spite of me, lead me gently into matrimonial ties, by means as wary
and imperceptible and as calm as this insignificant royalty--the fear of
all this haunted me.

Suddenly I had an inspiration, and I held out to Mademoiselle Pearl the
symbolical emblem. At first every one was surprised, then they doubtless
appreciated my delicacy and discretion, for they applauded furiously.
Everybody was crying: "Long live the queen! Long live the queen!"

As for herself, poor old maid, she was so amazed that she completely
lost control of herself; she was trembling and stammering: "No--no--oh!
no--not me--please--not me--I beg of you----"

Then for the first time in my life I looked at Mademoiselle Pearl and
wondered what she was.

I was accustomed to seeing her in this house, just as one sees old
upholstered armchairs on which one has been sitting since childhood
without ever noticing them. One day, with no reason at all, because a
ray of sunshine happens to strike the seat, you suddenly think: "Why,
that chair is very curious"; and then you discover that the wood has
been worked by a real artist and that the material is remarkable. I had
never taken any notice of Mademoiselle Pearl.

She was a part of the Chantal family, that was all. But how? By
what right? She was a tall, thin person who tried to remain in the
background, but who was by no means insignificant. She was treated in a
friendly manner, better than a housekeeper, not so well as a relative.
I suddenly observed several shades of distinction which I had never
noticed before. Madame Chantal said: "Pearl." The young ladies:
"Mademoiselle Pearl," and Chantal only addressed her as "Mademoiselle,"
with an air of greater respect, perhaps.

I began to observe her. How old could she be? Forty? Yes, forty. She was
not old, she made herself old. I was suddenly struck by this fact. She
fixed her hair and dressed in a ridiculous manner, and, notwithstanding
all that, she was not in the least ridiculous, she had such si