my good works. But
of course I shall first have to learn how to take care of myself and
mother and father before I can aid the poor. I often think of becoming
a nun and going out to nurse lepers. Only I don't know where there are
any. Do you?

Paris is very large and a sort of silvery grey colour, full of trees
with yellowing leaves--but Oh, it is _so_ lonely, Mr. Neeland! I am
determined not to cry every day, but it is quite difficult not to. And
then there are so many, many people, and they all talk French! They
talk very fast, too, even the little children.

This seems such an ungrateful letter to write you, who were so good
and kind to me in my dreadful hour of trial and disgrace. I am afraid
you won't understand how full of gratitude I am, to you and to the
Princess Mistchenka.

I have the prettiest little bedroom in her house. There is a pink
shade on my night lamp. She insisted that I go home with her, and I
had to, because I didn't know where else to go, and she wouldn't tell
me. In fact, I can't go anywhere or find any place because I speak no
French at all. It's humiliating, isn't it, for even the very little
children speak French in Paris.

But I have begun to learn; a cheerful old lady comes for an hour every
day to teach me. Only it is very hard for me, because she speaks no
English and I am forbidden to utter one word of my own language. And
so far I understand nothing that she says, which makes me more lonely
than I ever was in all my life. But sometimes it is so absurd that we
both laugh.

I am to study drawing and painting at a studio for women. The kind
Princess has arranged it. I am also to study piano and voice culture.
This I did not suppose would be possible with the money I have, but
the Princess Mistchenka, who has asked me to let her take charge of my
money and my expenses, says that I can easily afford it. She knows, of
course, what things cost, and what I am able to afford; and I trust
her willingly because she is so dear and sweet to me, but I am a
little frightened at the dresses she is having made for me. They
_can't_ be inexpensive!--Such lovely clothes and shoes and hats--and
other things about which I never even heard in Brookhollow.

I ought to be happy, Mr. Neeland, but everything is so new and
strange--even Sunday is not restful; and how different is Notre Dame
de Paris and Saint Eustache from our church at Gayfield! The high
arches and jewelled windows and the candles and th