Only at meals we were together in a long
room called the refectory, where we sat on
each side of a long marble table, with which
the walls were lined. We met there at half-
past eight to breakfast on thin soup, or milk,
or coffee which the girls called chicory; or, in
the case of the English girls, upon straw-
coloured warm water, which was tea. We
met there, at half-past twelve for a luncheon,
which included meat—except on Wednesdays
and Fridays—and plenty of jams to eat
with our bread. At three, each had a
piece of bread, and at half-past six we met
again in the refectory for dinner, which was a
luncheon with weak soup added that nobody
would take, and with vegetables added for
which everybody scrambled. They were
taken as they came by the first who could
seize them, and in two minutes devoured.
For meat nobody cared except the English
girls, by whom it was preferred to everything.
Pudding was never seen. After dinner
nothing more was to be eaten, and there
was nothing to be drunk except cold water.

But, the time after dinner was our own,
always excepting a few solemn minutes
which were employed by Madame Grondet in
the review of her young troops. We were
collected at a certain time every evening in
silent state to receive Madame Grondet, who
then went from room to room, and heard the
report of our good or evil deeds during the day
proclaimed in her presence. It was the season
of reward and punishment. Madame Grondet
then walked into the midst, accompanied by
the lady superintendent; and taking her seat
on the class mistress's platform—fat, good-
natured old soul as she was—laboured to look
severe for two minutes together. She had
some notion of the telling effect of Napoleon's
attitudes, and thrust one hand behind her
back, or crossed her arms. When she had
awed us enough by her dignity, she would
make an imperial inclination with her head,
and in a terrible voice of power (or what
she meant to be that), bade us be seated.
Then we heard our faults or merits read out
in a very loud voice, very distinct in the
midst of the great stillness; but Madame
Grondet did not visit us with much extravagance
of praise or censure. To a girl who
had done well she commonly said only, "That
is well done, my daughter." But to a girl
who had done ill she said, "What is this that
I hear?" When all was over, she remained
a few minutes to talk with us, and, in departing,
kissed those who presented their lips or
their cheeks for the honour.

But, Madame Grondet had more solemn
exhortations in reserve for great offenders. It
will be observed, that although ours was the
institution of the Dames Grondet, implying by
its title more mistresses than one, yet Madame
Grondet was sole empress and lawgiver. She
had been left in sole possession ever since the
marriage of her daughter at the close of the
last century. It happened, then, sometimes,
that Madame Grondet summoned to her
private room certain offenders; generally this
was for faults committed on a Sunday. The
culprit would be ordered to go for rebuke to
Madame Grondet's room at nine o'clock on
Monday morning. There she was generally
found in bed, with a silk handkerchief, instead
of nightcap, tied in a free-and-easy style about
her head, and with her favourite little dog
Mie-mie (a vixenish cur) sharing a seat on
her knees with a dish of soup. Madame
would give a spoonful of her soup to Mie-
mie, then take some herself, then intersperse
grave admonition to the offender with amusing
words of endearment to the dog. The end of
the interview was usually hastened by Mie-
mie, who snapping at his mistress's nose or
ears, and otherwise generally exciting himself,
tumbled at last into the soup; whereupon
Madame would say, "Poor little pet!" as he
leapt to the ground shaking his coat, and
would drink off the soup that was left with
great composure. Then she would say, "My
daughter will you have the kindness to place
my cup on the table. Thank you, my child;
you may go." And so the ceremony ended.

We all dressed alike at Madame Grondet's,
and never walked beyond our own
garden grounds. The girls whose parents
lived in Paris, went home once a fortnight on
the Saturday, to stay away till Monday. I
was one of that happy number; and wondrous
tales we all brought home once a fortnight of
the things that were to be seen and done in
the great world. It was a real punishment,
sometimes inflicted, to forbid one of these
homeward journeys. The next worst penal
sentence was confinement in a small but
very cheerful room, and the cutting off
for twenty-four hours of verbal communication
with companions. Any girl so confined was.
not allowed to attend the lessons of the
professors; and it was thought worth while,
sometimes, to be dreadfully wicked, and to
get one's self shut up, to avoid the greater
disgrace of grieving some gentlemanly man by
a too dreadfully imperfect lesson.

Which of our young ladies, for example,
could have supported the awkwardness of her
position in appearing to have been inattentive
to the words of Monsieur de Lamière? He
was the hero of many tales, the idol of all our
imaginations. He was a tall, thin, pale, un-
wholesome-looking man, who smiled in a
most grievous and heartrending way, and
leaned upon a gold-handled cane. He had long
white hands and very pink nails. The first
thing every one saw who looked at him
was, that he had long pink nails. He
carried pocket-handkerchiefs embroidered and
trimmed with lace, and he made also much
use of a bonbon box, which, as the French girls
said, he handed with an infinite grace to any
one of us who coughed. Half those French girls
professed to be in love with him; and whenever
it was nearly time to go and attend
his lesson, there was a universal bustle, a