speaking at all. Each crime had its due
punishment. But the iniquity of iniquities
—the unpardonable sin—was escalading the
green gate, which was locked when we left
our bed-rooms in the morning, and forbidden
to be passed without a special permit from
Madame, until we returned to them at night.
I was troubled with a fastidious liking for
ablutions before dinner, and, for a long while,
escaladed the gate daily with impunity; but
at last I was caught; and Madame locked
me up for two hours in the drawing-room,
where I looked at her album, and read a
volume of an English novel. Madame
talked to me seriously before releasing
me from this agreeable durance; but
as she laid it on my honour never to
transgress again, I ever afterwards washed
my hands at the little conduit in the court,
which was clear as crystal and cold as ice,
and dried them in the Turkish fashion, by
waving in the air.

Our masters were four: Monsieur Delâtre
for music; Monsieur Pinceau for drawing;
Signor Novelli for Italian, and Monsieur
Entrechat for dancing. My first introduction
to them covered me with ignominy, and was
ever afterwards the cause of irritating
allusion from Monsieur Delâtre, who was a
black, saturnine man, smelling always of
garlic and tobacco, and whom I hated.

It was on this wise. Saturday morning
was the time for mending rent garments;
and, as my ill-luck would have it, I tore a
great hole in my stocking with escalading
the green gate on Friday morn. It was
discovered, and Mademoiselle Laure ordered
me to repair it. I sat down to my task in
dismay, wishing for dear Aunt Martha to
help me; but, as wishing would not bring
her, I followed the suggestions of my common
sense, and set a patch diagonally across
the hole. When Mademoiselle Laure saw
what I had done, instead of commending
me, she burst forth into a tirade, and called
me tout-à-fait sauvage, then ordered me to
carry my handiwork to Madame in her salon
below. I was obliged to obey, and went
reluctantly enough, for one of my
compatriots whispered that I should catch it.

"Entrez! " cried Madame, when I feebly
knocked, and I entered. The four masters
were there—being paid, I suppose; and as I
had never seen them before, I retreated,
saying in English that I would come again.
But escape was not so easy. Madame
impatiently bade me advance, and taking the
stocking from my helpless hand, looked at it
in unfeigned horror. I felt all over red-hot
and wished the brick floor would open and
engulf me—but it did not. I bit my nether lip,
but would not cry—not even when Madame
handed the stocking to Monsieur Delâtre
who laughed over it—the monster! The
Signor, who was a gentleman, said
something kind to me; but I did not understand
his words, and little Entrechat shook
his head and smiled. I tried to take the
stocking from Madame; but, when I had
got it, she ordered me to undo my work, and
kept me at her elbow while I did it over
again. A nice bit of cobbling it was when
done; and, as I at last got away, I heard
that odious Monsieur Delâtre laugh like a
vampire or a ghoul.

Madame Freschon's birthday was always
signalised by the presentation of a gift, to
which each girl contributed, according to her
liberality or her means. This ceremony was
followed either by a dance or a theatrical
representation. During the time I was there
it was the latter. A sacred drama was
selected. I forget its name; but if I recollect
aright, it was a composition of Madame
Duvivier's, with music by Mons. Delâtre.
Of its literary merits I can say nothing; I
only remember that Mademoiselle Laure
went mad in it, and that in the distribution
of the roles the character of David, a shepherd
boy, was portioned out to me. I took
it gleefully; for I thought it would be great
fun. I had one long speech to learn, and the
rest of my part consisted in holding a small
gilt lyre (lent by Mons. Pinceau), and sitting
on a bank of green baize, musing amongst
imaginary flocks, beneath a glowing sky of
blue glazed muslin. There was much excitement
and much talk about dresses and the
company; and some criticisms of each other,
not altogether free from sarcasm.

In a month, everybody's part was perfect;
and, on Saturday, the grand rehearsal was to
come off in the grenier, all of us being attired
in the dresses in which we were to act. I
had not seen mine during the progress of
making, for everything had to be kept out of
Madame's sight; and when I was taken into
Madame Duvivier's chamber, to be invested
with it, previous to appearing on the imaginary
stage in the grenier, such a storm of
rebellion rose in my heart at the sight
of it, as threatened a blank for the
character of David. It was a kilt—tunic, they
called it—made of Turkey-red calico,
profusely spangled with gilt paper, stuck on
with gum. A broad gauze sash, white and
gilt, was to be tied round my waist. My
hair was to be curled on my neck, and
confined by a fillet of gold paper; a crook
in my hand; long silk stockings and no
shoes completed the attire. I looked at
it, and said that no power on earth should
make me put on that thing, meaning the kilt;
but Madame Duvivier flew into a passion,
and screamed that she would not have
everything spoiled by a little "wild English," like
me; and finding ready assistance in her
aiders and abettors, in the making of the kilt,
I was speedily divested of my natural
garments, and in spite of resistance, manual,
oral, and lingual, attired in the detested
properties of David, a shepherd-boy. They tried
to touch my vanity by telling me that I made
a sweet boy. Madame Duvivier (she had a