murmur came up, to die on her ear like the swell of the ocean. The
three wanderers made their way by the bank of an artificial stream and
came to the Swiss valley, where stands a chalet that had more than once
given shelter to Hortense and Napoleon. When Caroline had seated
herself with pious reverence on the mossy wooden bench where kings and
princesses and the Emperor had rested, Madame Crochard expressed a wish
to have a nearer view of a bridge that hung across between two rocks at
some little distance, and bent her steps towards that rural curiosity,
leaving her daughter in Monsieur Roger's care, though telling them that
she would not go out of sight.

"What, poor child!" cried Roger, "have you never longed for wealth and
the pleasures of luxury? Have you never wished that you might wear the
beautiful dresses you embroider?"

"It would not be the truth, Monsieur Roger, if I were to tell you that
I never think how happy people must be who are rich. Oh yes! I often
fancy, especially when I am going to sleep, how glad I should be to see
my poor mother no longer compelled to go out, whatever the weather,
to buy our little provisions, at her age. I should like her to have a
servant who, every morning before she was up, would bring her up her
coffee, nicely sweetened with white sugar. And she loves reading novels,
poor dear soul! Well, and I would rather see her wearing out her eyes
over her favorite books than over twisting her bobbins from morning
till night. And again, she ought to have a little good wine. In short, I
should like to see her comfortable--she is so good."

"Then she has shown you great kindness?"

"Oh yes," said the girl, in a tone of conviction. Then, after a short
pause, during which the two young people stood watching Madame Crochard,
who had got to the middle of the rustic bridge, and was shaking her
finger at them, Caroline went on:

"Oh yes, she has been so good to me. What care she took of me when I was
little! She sold her last silver forks to apprentice me to the old maid
who taught me to embroider.--And my poor father! What did she not go
through to make him end his days in happiness!" The girl shivered at the
remembrance, and hid her face in her hands.--"Well! come! let us forget
past sorrows!" she added, trying to rally her high spirits. She blushed
as she saw that Roger too was moved, but she dared not look at him.

"What was your father?" he asked.

"He was an opera-dancer before th