r things which, had they
been well described, would have been interesting; but Fred was only a
poor narrator. The conclusion the young ladies seemed to reach
unanimously after hearing his descriptions, was discouraging. They cried
almost with one voice--

"Think of any woman being willing to marry a sailor."

"Why not?" asked Giselle, very promptly.

"Because, what's the use of a husband who is always out of your reach, as
it were, between water and sky? One would better be a widow. Widows, at
any rate, can marry again. But you, Giselle, don't understand these
things. You are going to be a nun."

"Had I been in your place, Fred," said Isabelle Ray, "I should rather
have gone into the cavalry school at Saint Cyr. I should have wanted to
be a good huntsman, had I been a man, and they say naval officers are
never good horsemen."

Poor Fred! He was not making much progress among the young girls. Almost
everything people talked about outside his cadet life was unknown to him;
what he could talk about seemed to have no interest for any one, unless
indeed it might interest Giselle, who was an adept in the art of
sympathetic listening, never having herself anything to say.

Besides this, Fred was by no means at his ease in talking to Jacqueline.
They had been told not to 'tutoyer' each other, because they were getting
too old for such familiarity, and it was he, and not she, who remembered
this prohibition. Jacqueline perceived this after a while, and burst out
laughing:

"Tiens! You call me 'you,"' she cried, "and I ought not to say 'thou' but
'you.' I forgot. It seems so odd, when we have always been accustomed to
'tutoyer' each other."

"One ought to give it up after one's first communion," said the eldest
Mademoiselle Wermant, sententiously. "We ceased to 'tutoyer' our boy
cousins after that. I am told nothing annoys a husband so much as to see
these little familiarities between his wife and her cousins or her
playmates."

Giselle looked very much astonished at this speech, and her air of
disapproval amused Belle and Yvonne exceedingly. They began presently to
talk of the classes in which they were considered brilliant pupils, and
of their success in compositions. They said that sometimes very difficult
subjects were given out. A week or two before, each had had to compose a
letter purporting to be from Dante in exile to a friend in Florence,
describing Paris as it was in his time, especially the manners and
cus