lily in the stern old frame of the window.
The mother believed in discipline, and Helene's childhood and youth had
been spent in an atmosphere of cold severity. Punishments would have
been very frequent, if her father's rather spasmodic and inconsequent
kindness had not stepped in to save her. She owed a good deal to her
father, but these debts only hardened her mother against both of them.
Yet Madame de Sainfoy was not without a certain pride in the perfect
form and features, the delicate, exquisite grace and distinction, which
was one of these days to dazzle the Tuileries. On that, her resolution
was firm and unchanging. _Tout va bien!_ One of these days the Emperor's
command might be expected. With that confident certainty in the
background, she felt she need not trouble herself much about her
husband's objections or her daughter's fancies.

"You are a very difficult young woman, Helene," she said, still not
unkindly, and her eyes travelled with slow consideration over every
detail as the girl stood there. "I do not like that gown of yours," she
said. "Don't wear it again. Give it to Jeanne--do you hear?"

"Must I? But it is not worn out, mamma. I would rather keep it," the
girl said quickly, stroking her soft blue folds, which were in truth a
little faded.

Then she flushed suddenly, for what reason could she give for loving the
old gown! Not, certainly, that she had worn it one day in the
garden--one day when Mademoiselle Moineau went to sleep!

"You will do as I tell you," said Madame de Sainfoy. Then she added with
a slight laugh--"You are so fond of your own way, that I wonder you
should object to being married. Do you think, perhaps, you would find a
husband still more tyrannical?"

The girl shook her head. "No," she murmured.

"Then what is your reason? for you evidently intend not to be married at
all."

"I do not say that," said Helene; and Madame de Sainfoy was conscious,
with sudden anger, that once more the dreamy grey eyes travelled out of
the open window, far away to those lines of poplars and clipped elms
opposite.

"How different things were when I was young!" she said. "My marriage
with your father was arranged by our relations, without our meeting at
all. I never saw him till everything was concluded. If I had disliked
him, I could neither have said nor done anything."

"That was before the Revolution," said Helene, with a faint smile.

"Indeed you are very much mistaken," her mother sa