have you done?"

"You are embarrassing her," said the mother. "Tell him, my dear, that you
have done nothing, but that a feeling of modesty and respect prevents you
from gazing at the persons you address."

"Yes," said I; "but if modesty bids young ladies lower their eyes,
politeness should make them raise them now and again."

No one replied to this objection, which was a sharp cut for the absurd
woman; but after an interval of silence we rose from the table, and
Sophie went to fetch her drawings.

"I won't look at anything, Sophie, unless you will look at me."

"Come," said her mother, "look at the gentleman."

She obeyed as quickly as lightning, and I saw the prettiest eyes
imaginable.

"Now," said I, "I know you again, and perhaps you may remember having
seen me."

"Yes, although it is six years ago since we met, I recognized you
directly."

"And yet you did not look me in the face! If you knew how impolite it was
to lower your eyes when you are addressing anyone, you would not do it.
Who can have given you such a bad lesson?"

The child glanced towards her mother, who was standing by a window, and I
saw who was her preceptress.

I felt that I had taken sufficient vengeance, and began to examine her
drawings, to praise them in detail, and to congratulate her on her
talents. I told her that she ought to be thankful to have a mother who
had given her so good an education. This indirect compliment pleased
Madame Cornelis, and Sophie, now free from all restraint, gazed at me
with an expression of child-like affection which ravished me. Her
features bore the imprint of a noble soul within, and I pitied her for
having to grow up under the authority of a foolish mother. Sophie went to
the piano, played with feeling, and then sang some Italian airs, to the
accompaniment of the guitar, too well for her age. She was too
precocious, and wanted much more discretion in her education than Madame
Cornelis was able to give her.

When her singing had been applauded by the company, her mother told her
to dance a minuet with her brother, who had learnt in Paris, but danced
badly for want of a good carriage. His sister told him so with a kiss,
and then asked me to dance with her, which I did very readily. Her
mother, who thought she had danced exquisitely, as was indeed the case,
told her that she must give me a kiss. She came up to me, and drawing her
on my knee I covered her face with kisses, which she returned with th