e beauty seemed to darken and to deepen, and one felt
instinctively that it was in her to be cruel even to fierceness; and
again, when her heart was touched and her face softened, one imagined
that she might be somewhat akin to the angels.

What was to become of such a nature? What was to develop it--what was to
train it? If from her infancy Pauline had been under wise and tender
guidance, if some mind that she felt to be superior to her own had
influenced her, the certainty is that she would have grown up into a
thoughtful, intellectual, talented woman, one whose influence would have
been paramount for good, one to whom men would have looked for guidance
almost unconsciously to themselves.

But her training had been terribly defective. No one had ever controlled
her. She had been mistress of her father's house and queen of his little
coterie; with her quiet, unerring judgment, she had made her own
estimate of the strength, the mind, the intellect of each one with whom
she came in contact, and the result was always favorable to herself--she
saw no one superior to herself. Then the society in which her father
had delighted was the worst possible for her; she reigned supreme over
them all--clever, gifted artists, good-natured Bohemians, who admired
and applauded her, who praised every word that fell from her lips, who
honestly believed her to be one of the marvels of the world, who told
her continually that she was one of the most beautiful, most talented,
most charming of mortals, who applauded every daring sentiment instead
of telling her plainly that what was not orthodox was seldom
right--honest Bohemians, who looked upon the child as a wonder, and
puzzled themselves to think what destiny was high enough for her--men
whose artistic tastes were gratified by the sight of her magnificent
loveliness, who had for her the deepest, truest, and highest respect,
who never in her presence uttered a syllable that they would not have
uttered in the presence of a child--good-natured Bohemians, who
sometimes had money and sometimes had none, who were always willing to
share their last _sou_ with others more needy than themselves, who wore
shabby, threadbare coats, but who knew how to respect the pure presence
of a pure girl.

Pauline had received a kind of education. Her father's friends discussed
everything--art, science, politics, and literature--in her presence;
they discussed the wildest stories, they indulged in unbounded fu