ard Capucines. And I must care for myself, and furnish the
cottage prettily, and keep a servant. Her wealth and great fortune have
not rendered her undutiful,--my Laure."

So she talked of Madame Legrand, and so all St. Croix talked of Madame
Legrand, and some, of course, were envious and prophesied that the end
had not come yet, and Mere Giraud would find herself forgotten some fine
day; and others rejoiced with her, and congratulated themselves that
they knew so aristocratic a person as Madame Legrand.

Jeanne Tallot was of those who sympathized with her in all
warm-heartedness and candor.

With her knitting in her hand ready for action, and with friendly
unceremoniousness, she presented herself at the cottage door one
morning, nodding and speaking before she had crossed the threshold.

"Good-day, neighbor Giraud. Any letters from Laure this morning?"

Mere Giraud, who sat before the window under the swinging cage of her
bird, looked up with an air a little more serious than usual.

"Ah!" she said, "I am glad it is you, Jeanne. I have been wishing to see
you."

Jeanne seated herself, smiling.

"Then," said she, "it is well I came."

But immediately she noticed the absent look of her friend, and commented
upon it.

"You do not look at your best this morning," she said. "How does it
occur?"

"I am thinking," said Mere Giraud with some importance of manner,--"I am
thinking of going to Paris."

"To Paris!"

"I am anxious," shaking her head seriously. "I had last night a bad
dream. I wish to see Laure."

Then she turned and looked at Jeanne almost wistfully.

"It is a long time since I have seen her," she said.

"Yes," answered Jeanne in a little doubt; "but Paris is a long way off."

"Yes," said Mere Giraud; "but it appears that all at once I realize how
long it is since I have seen my child. I am getting old, you see. I was
not very young when she was born, and, as one grows older, one becomes
more uneasy and obstinate in one's fancies. This morning I feel that
I must see my Laure. My heart yearns for her, and"--hastily--"she will
undoubtedly be rejoiced to see me. She has often said that she wished
she might lay her head upon my breast again."

It seemed that she was resolved upon the journey. She was in a singular,
uneasy mood, and restless beyond measure. She who had never been twenty
miles from St. Croix had made up her mind to leave it at once and
confront all the terrors of a journey to Paris