w, and as far as distant observation could enable me to judge, she
seemed to enjoy him with the frank ease of a ward with an indulgent
guardian. I had seen her run up to him, put her arm through his, and
hang upon him. Once, when she did so, a curious sensation had struck
through me--a disagreeable anticipatory sensation--one of the family of
presentiments, I suppose--but I refused to analyze or dwell upon it.
While watching this girl, Mademoiselle Sauveur by name, and following
the gleam of her bright silk robe (she was always richly dressed, for
she was said to be wealthy) through the flowers and the glancing leaves
of tender emerald, my eyes became dazzled--they closed; my lassitude,
the warmth of the day, the hum of bees and birds, all lulled me, and at
last I slept.

Two hours stole over me. Ere I woke, the sun had declined out of sight
behind the towering houses, the garden and the room were grey, bees had
gone homeward, and the flowers were closing; the party of guests, too,
had vanished; each alley was void.

On waking, I felt much at ease--not chill, as I ought to have been
after sitting so still for at least two hours; my cheek and arms were
not benumbed by pressure against the hard desk. No wonder. Instead of
the bare wood on which I had laid them, I found a thick shawl,
carefully folded, substituted for support, and another shawl (both
taken from the corridor where such things hung) wrapped warmly round me.

Who had done this? Who was my friend? Which of the teachers? Which of
the pupils? None, except St. Pierre, was inimical to me; but which of
them had the art, the thought, the habit, of benefiting thus tenderly?
Which of them had a step so quiet, a hand so gentle, but I should have
heard or felt her, if she had approached or touched me in a day-sleep?

As to Ginevra Fanshawe, that bright young creature was not gentle at
all, and would certainly have pulled me out of my chair, if she had
meddled in the matter. I said at last: "It is Madame Beck's doing; she
has come in, seen me asleep, and thought I might take cold. She
considers me a useful machine, answering well the purpose for which it
was hired; so would not have me needlessly injured. And now,"
methought, "I'll take a walk; the evening is fresh, and not very chill."

So I opened the glass door and stepped into the berceau.

I went to my own alley: had it been dark, or even dusk, I should have
hardly ventured there, for I had not yet forgotten th