t something holy in this simplicity, which had been
preserved to them by abstinence from all the joys of life? Ah! accursed
be he who first had the had courage to attach ridicule to that name of
"old maid," which recalls so many images of grievous deception, of
dreariness, and of abandonment! Accursed be he who can find a subject for
sarcasm in involuntary misfortune, and who can crown gray hairs with
thorns!

The two sisters were called Frances and Madeleine. This day's journey was
a feat of courage without example in their lives. The fever of the times
had infected them unawares. Yesterday Madeleine had suddenly proposed the
idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it immediately. Perhaps
it would have been better not to yield to the great temptation offered by
her younger sister; but "we have our follies at all ages," as the prudent
Frances philosophically remarked. As for Madeleine, there are no regrets
or doubts for her; she is the life-guardsman of the establishment.

"We really must amuse ourselves," said she; "we live but once."

And the elder sister smiled at this Epicurean maxim. It was evident that
the fever of independence was at its crisis in both of them.

And in truth it would have been a great pity if any scruple had
interfered with their happiness, it was so frank and genial! The sight of
the trees, which seemed to fly on both sides of the road, caused them
unceasing admiration. The meeting a train passing in the contrary
direction, with the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, made them shut
their eyes and utter a cry; but it had already disappeared! They look
around, take courage again, and express themselves full of astonishment
at the marvel.

Madeleine declares that such a sight is worth the expense of the journey,
and Frances would have agreed with her if she had not recollected, with
some little alarm, the deficit which such an expense must make in their
budget. The three francs spent upon this single expedition were the
savings of a whole week of work. Thus the joy of the elder of the two
sisters was mixed with remorse; the prodigal child now and then turned
its eyes toward the back street of St. Denis.

But the motion and the succession of objects distract her. See the bridge
of the Val surrounded by its lovely landscape: on the right, Paris with
its grand monuments, which rise through the fog, or sparkle in the sun;
on the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines, and i