dread of compromising myself took hold of me as well as an
extreme timidity before the obstinately correct and reserved attitude of
the Misses Louise and Pauline. To choose one of them in preference to the
other seemed to me as difficult as choosing between two drops of water;
and then the fear of launching myself into an affair which might, in
spite of me, lead me gently into matrimonial ties, by means as wary and
imperceptible and as calm as this insignificant royalty--the fear of
all this haunted me.

Suddenly I had an inspiration, and I held out to Mademoiselle Pearl the
symbolical emblem. At first every one was surprised, then they doubtless
appreciated my delicacy and discretion, for they applauded furiously.
Everybody was crying: "Long live the queen! Long live the queen!"

As for herself, poor old maid, she was so amazed that she completely lost
control of herself; she was trembling and stammering: "No--no--oh! no--not
me--please--not me--I beg of you----"

Then for the first time in my life I looked at Mademoiselle Pearl and
wondered what she was.

I was accustomed to seeing her in this house, just as one sees old
upholstered armchairs on which one has been sitting since childhood
without ever noticing them. One day, with no reason at all, because a ray
of sunshine happens to strike the seat, you suddenly think: "Why, that
chair is very curious"; and then you discover that the wood has been
worked by a real artist and that the material is remarkable. I had never
taken any notice of Mademoiselle Pearl.

She was a part of the Chantal family, that was all. But how? By what
right? She was a tall, thin person who tried to remain in the background,
but who was by no means insignificant. She was treated in a friendly
manner, better than a housekeeper, not so well as a relative. I suddenly
observed several shades of distinction which I had never noticed before.
Madame Chantal said: "Pearl." The young ladies: "Mademoiselle Pearl," and
Chantal only addressed her as "Mademoiselle," with an air of greater
respect, perhaps.

I began to observe her. How old could she be? Forty? Yes, forty. She was
not old, she made herself old. I was suddenly struck by this fact. She
fixed her hair and dressed in a ridiculous manner, and, notwithstanding
all that, she was not in the least ridiculous, she had such simple,
natural gracefulness, veiled and hidden. Truly, what a strange creature!
How was it I had never observed her before