rch
service. Madame de Ferrier and Paul and Ernestine came from their
apartment to join in the Protestant ritual; and I sat beside them so
constantly that the Catholic priest who arrived at Easter to dress up
the souls of the household, found me in a state of heresy.

I have always thought a woman needs a dark capping of hair, whatever her
complexion, to emphasize her beauty. For light locks seem to fray out to
nothing, and waste to air instead of fitly binding a lovely countenance.
Madame de Ferrier's hair was of exactly the right color. Her eyebrows
were distinct dark lines, and the lashes were so dense that you noticed
the curling rim they made around her gray eyes. Whether the gift of
looking to your core is beauty or not, I can only say she had it. And I
could not be sworn what her features were; such life and expression
played over and changed them every moment.

As to her figure, it was just in its roundness and suppleness, and had a
lightness of carriage that I have never seen equaled. There was charm in
looking at without approaching her that might have satisfied me
indefinitely, if De Chaumont had not come home.

Ernestine herself made the first breach in that sacred reserve. The old
woman met me in the hall, courtesied, and passed as usual. I turned
behind the broad ribbons which hung down her back from cap to heels, and
said:

"Oh, by the way, Ernestine, how is Madame de Ferrier? I was going to
knock--"

And Ernestine courtesied again, and opened the door, standing aside for
me to enter.

Madame de Ferrier sat on a bearskin before the hearth with Paul, who
climbed over her and gave her juicy kisses. There was a deep wood fire,
upheld by very tall andirons having cups in their tops, which afterwards
I learned were called posset cups. She was laughing so that her white
teeth showed, and she made me welcome like a playmate; remaining on the
rug, and bidding Ernestine set a chair for me near the fire.

"It is very kind of you to spare me some time, monsieur," said Madame de
Ferrier. She admonished Paul--"Don't choke your little mother."

I told her boldly that nothing but the dread of disturbing her kept me
from knocking every day. We had always walked into the lodges without
knocking, and I dwelt on this as one of my new accomplishments.

"I am not studying night and day," she answered. "Sophie Saint-Michel
and her mother were my teachers, and they are gone now, one to heaven
and the other to Castorl