ent him to New Orleans,
consigned to the care of the great banking house of Challeau, Lafort &
Company. Not liking to take the chances of yellow fever in the summer,
he had resolved to journey to the North, and as Challeau, Lafort &
Company had a correspondent in Henry Leston, the young lawyer, and as
French was abundantly spoken in our Swiss village of New Geneva, what
more natural than that they should dispatch the marquis to our pleasant
town of vineyards, giving him a letter of introduction to their
attorney, who fortunately spoke some book French. He had presented the
letter, had been invited to dinner, and Priscilla Haines, who had
learned French in childhood, though she was not Swiss, was sent for to
help entertain the guest.

I can not but fancy that D'Entremont was surprised at meeting just such
a girl as Priscilla in a rustic village. She was not abashed at finding
herself face to face with a nobleman, nor did she seem at all anxious
to attract his notice. The vanity of the marquis must have been a
little hurt at finding a lady that did not court his attention. But
wounded vanity soon gave place to another surprise. Even Mrs. Leston,
who understood not one word of the conversation between her husband,
the marquis, and Priscilla, was watching for this second surprise, and
did not fail to read it in D'Entremont's eyes. Here was a young woman
who had read. She could admire Corinne, which was much in vogue in
those days among English-speaking students of French; she could oppose
Saint Simon. The Marquis d'Entremont had resigned himself to the ennui
of talking to Swiss farmers about their vineyards, of listening to
Swiss grandmothers telling stories of their childhood in Neufchatel and
Vaud. But to find in this young village school-teacher one who could
speak, and listen while he spoke, of his favorite writers, was to him
very strange. Not that Priscilla had read many French books, for there
were not many within her reach. But she had read Grimm's
Correspondence, and he who reads this has heard the echo of many of the
great voices in French literature. And while David Haines had lived his
daughter had wanted nothing he could get to help her to the highest
culture.

But I think what amazed the marquis most was that Priscilla showed no
consciousness of the unusual character of her attainments. She spoke
easily and naturally of what she knew, as if it were a matter of course
that the teacher of a primary school shou