ght.

"'Tiens'! here comes somebody who has to be contented with much less,"
said Yvonne, as a young girl joined their circle. She was small, awkward,
timid, and badly dressed. On seeing her Colette whispered "Oh! that
tiresome Giselle. We sha'n't be able to talk another word."

Jacqueline kissed Giselle de Monredon. They were distant cousins, though
they saw each other very seldom. Giselle was an orphan, having lost both
her father and her mother, and was being educated in a convent from which
she was allowed to come out only on great occasions. Her grandmother,
whose ideas were those of the old school, had placed her there. The
Easter holidays accounted for Giselle's unexpected arrival. Wrapped in a
large cloak which covered up her convent uniform, she looked, as compared
with the gay girls around her, like a poor sombre night-moth, dazzled by
the light, in company with other glittering creatures of the insect race,
fluttering with graceful movements, transparent wings and shining
corselets.

"Come and have some sandwiches," said Jacqueline, and she drew Giselle to
the tea-table, with the kind intention apparently of making her feel more
at her ease. But she had another motive. She saw some one who was very
interesting to her coming at that moment toward the table. That some one
was a man about forty, whose pointed black beard was becoming slightly
gray--a man whom some people thought ugly, chiefly because they had never
seen his somewhat irregular features illumined by a smile which,
spreading from his lips to his eyes, lighted up his face and transformed
it. The smile of Hubert Marien was rare, however. He was exclusive in his
friendships, often silent, always somewhat unapproachable. He seldom
troubled himself to please any one he did not care for. In society he was
not seen to advantage, because he was extremely bored, for which reason
he was seldom to be seen at the Tuesday receptions of Madame de Nailles;
while, on other days, he frequented the house as an intimate friend of
the family. Jacqueline had known him all her life, and for her he had
always his beautiful smile. He had petted her when she was little, and
had been much amused by the sort of adoration she had no hesitation in
showing that she felt for him. He used to call her Mademoiselle ma femme,
and M. de Nailles would speak of him as "my daughter's future husband."
This joke had been kept up till the little lady had reached her ninth
year, when it c