chioness did not care, so she said, to be bothered
with a young spy who would be in her way when she related some of her
choice anecdotes.

Claire d'Arlange was just seventeen years old. She was extremely
graceful and gentle in manner, and lovely in her natural innocence. She
had a profusion of fine light brown hair, which fell in ringlets over
her well-shaped neck and shoulders. Her figure was still rather slender;
but her features recalled Guide's most celestial faces. Her blue eyes,
shaded by long lashes of a hue darker than her hair, had above all an
adorable expression.

A certain air of antiquity, the result of her association with her
grandmother, added yet another charm to the young girl's manner. She had
more sense, however, than her relative; and, as her education had not
been neglected, she had imbibed pretty correct ideas of the world in
which she lived. This education, these practical ideas, Claire owed
to her governess, upon whose shoulders the marchioness had thrown the
entire responsibility of cultivating her mind.

This governess, Mademoiselle Schmidt, chosen at hazard, happened by
the most fortunate chance to be both well informed and possessed of
principle. She was, what is often met with on the other side of
the Rhine, a woman at once romantic and practical, of the tenderest
sensibility and the severest virtue. This good woman, while she carried
her pupil into the land of sentimental phantasy and poetical imaginings,
gave her at the same time the most practical instruction in matters
relating to actual life. She revealed to Claire all the peculiarities
of thought and manner that rendered her grandmother so ridiculous, and
taught her to avoid them, but without ceasing to respect them.

Every evening, on arriving at Madame d'Arlange's, M. Daburon was sure to
find Claire seated beside her grandmother, and it was for that that
he called. Whilst listening with an inattentive ear to the old lady's
rigmaroles and her interminable anecdotes of the emigration, he gazed
upon Claire, as a fanatic upon his idol. Often in his ecstasy he forgot
where he was for the moment and became absolutely oblivious of the old
lady's presence, although her shrill voice was piercing the tympanum
of his ear like a needle. Then he would answer her at cross-purposes,
committing the most singular blunders, which he labored afterwards to
explain. But he need not have taken the trouble. Madame d'Arlange did
not perceive her court