o," he answered kindly; "that would not do at all,
Madelon; it does not do for little girls to run about the
world making fortunes. Your father used to take you to those
rooms, but he would not have liked to have seen you there
alone last night, and you must never go again."

He tried to speak lightly, but the words aroused some new
consciousness in the child, and she coloured scarlet.

"I--I did not know--" she began; and then stopped suddenly, and
never again spoke of making Monsieur Horace's fortune.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Partings.

So it was something like the end of a fairy tale after all;
for a carriage stopped before the restaurant at Le Trooz, and
out of it came a gentleman, and a lady beautiful enough to be
a fairy godmother, and the little wandering Princess herself,
no other than our Madelon, who ran up to Jeanne-Marie as she
came to the door, and clasping her round the neck, clung to
her more tightly than she had ever clung before, till the
woman, disengaging herself, turned to speak to her other
visitors. Mrs. Treherne came into the little public room,
which happened to be empty just then, and siting down on one
of the wooden chairs, began to talk to Jeanne-Marie; whilst
Madelon, escaping, made her way to the garden at the back,
where she had spent so many peaceful hours. It was not a week
since she had been there and it looked all unchanged; the sun
was shining again after the last few days, and filling the air
with summer heat and radiance; the grapes were ripening on the
wall; the bees humming among the flowers; Jeanne-Marie's pots
and pans stood in the kitchen window. How quiet, and sunny,
and familiar it looked! Madelon half expected to find her
chair set in the old shady corner, to see Jeanne-Marie's face
appearing through the screen of vine-leaves at the open
window, to hear her voice calling to her to leave her work,
and come and help her make the soup! Ah no, it was not all
unchanged; was there indeed anything the same as in the old
days that already seemed such ages distant, the old time gone
for ever? With a sudden pang, Madelon turned away, and went
quickly up the outside staircase, all overgrown with unpruned
sprays and tendrils, into the room she had occupied for so
many weeks. How happy she had been there! what dreams she had
dreamed! what hopes she had cherished! what visions she had
indulged in! Where were they all now? Where was that golden
future to which she had so confidently l