elight to her.

"Look at it, mamma! It lay at the very bottom. Just smell it; what a
lovely perfume!"

From the tawny flowers, speckled with purple, there came a penetrating
odor which scented the whole room. Then Helene, with a passionate
movement, drew Jeanne to her breast, while the nosegay fell on her
lap. To love! to love! Truly, she loved her child. Was not that
intense love which had pervaded her life till now sufficient for her
wants? It ought to satisfy her; it was so gentle, so tranquil; no
lassitude could put an end to its continuance. Again she pressed her
daughter to her, as though to conjure away thoughts which threatened
to separate them. In the meantime Jeanne surrendered herself to the
shower of kisses. Her eyes moist with tears, she turned her delicate
neck upwards with a coaxing gesture, and pressed her face against her
mother's shoulder. Then she slipped an arm round her waist and thus
remained, very demure, her cheek resting on Helene's bosom. The
perfume of the wall-flowers ascended between them.

For a long time they did not speak; but at length, without moving,
Jeanne asked in a whisper:

"Mamma, you see that rosy-colored dome down there, close to the river;
what is it?"

It was the dome of the Institute, and Helene looked towards it for a
moment as though trying to recall the name.

"I don't know, my love," she answered gently.

The child appeared content with this reply, and silence again fell.
But soon she asked a second question.

"And there, quite near, what beautiful trees are those?" she said,
pointing with her finger towards a corner of the Tuileries garden.

"Those beautiful trees!" said her mother. "On the left, do you mean? I
don't know, my love."

"Ah!" exclaimed Jeanne; and after musing for a little while she added
with a pout: "We know nothing!"

Indeed they knew nothing of Paris. During eighteen months it had lain
beneath their gaze every hour of the day, yet they knew not a stone of
it. Three times only had they gone down into the city; but on
returning home, suffering from terrible headaches born of all the
agitation they had witnessed, they could find in their minds no
distinct memory of anything in all that huge maze of streets.

However, Jeanne at times proved obstinate. "Ah! you can tell me this!"
said she: "What is that glass building which glitters there? It is so
big you must know it."

She was referring to the Palais de l'Industrie. Helene, however,
hesi