was. As for Blaise and Babette, the song
says they suffer fond regrets that go on forever.

Why speak of Pierrot and Scapin? You know as well as I do they were
scamps, and got their ears pulled more than once. No! glory costs too
dear, even Harlequin's. On the contrary, it is very agreeable to be
little boys and girls, and have the look of being great personages.
That is why there is no pleasure to compare with a fancy ball, when the
dresses are splendid enough. Only to wear them makes you feel brave.
Then think how proud and pretty all your little friends are with their
feathers and mantles; how gallant and gay and noble they look, and how
like the fine folks of olden times.

In the gallery, where you cannot see them, the musicians, with sad,
gentle faces, are tuning up their fiddles. A stately quadrille lies open
on their stands. They are going to attack the old-fashioned piece. At
the first notes our heroes and masks will lead off the dance.

THE SCHOOL

[Illustration: 180]

I PROCLAIM Mademoiselle Genseigne's school the best girls' school in the
world. I declare miscreants and slanderers any who shall think or say
the contrary. Mademoiselle Genseigne's pupils are all well-behaved and
industrious, and there is no pleasanter sight to see than all their
small figures sitting so still, and all the heads in a straight row.
They look like so many little bottles into which Mademoiselle Gen-seigne
is busy pouring useful knowledge.

Mademoiselle Genseigne sits very upright at her high desk. She has
a gentle, serious face; her neatly braided hair and her black tippet
inspire respect and sympathy.

Mademoiselle Genseigne, who is very clever, is teaching her little
pupils cyphering.

She says to Rose Benoit:

"Rose Benoit, if I take four from twelve, what have I left?"

"Four?" answers Rose Benoit.

Mademoiselle Genseigne is not satisfied with the answer.

"And you, Emmeline Capel, if I take four from twelve, how much have I
left?"

"Eight," Emmeline Capel answers.

"You hear, Rose Benoit, I have eight left," insists Mademoiselle
Genseigne.

Rose Benoit falls into a brown study. Mademoiselle Genseigne has eight
left, she is told, but she has no notion if it is eight hats or eight
handkerchiefs, or possibly eight apples or eight feathers. The doubt has
long tormented her. She can make nothing of arithmetic.

On the other hand, she is very wise in Scripture History. Mademoiselle
Genseigne has not anot