Pauline. I was questioned about a thousand and one things, about what
had happened on the boulevards, about politics, about how matters
stood in Tong-King, and about our representatives in Parliament. Madame
Chantal, a fat lady, whose ideas always gave me the impression of being
carved out square like building stones, was accustomed to exclaiming at
the end of every political discussion: "All that is seed which does not
promise much for the future!" Why have I always imagined that Madame
Chantal's ideas are square? I don't know; but everything that she says
takes that shape in my head: a big square, with four symmetrical angles.
There are other people whose ideas always strike me as being round and
rolling like a hoop. As soon as they begin a sentence on any subject it
rolls on and on, coming out in ten, twenty, fifty round ideas, large and
small, which I see rolling along, one behind the other, to the end of
the horizon. Other people have pointed ideas--but enough of this.

We sat down as usual and finished our dinner without anything out of the
ordinary being said. At dessert the Twelfth Night cake was brought on.
Now, M. Chantal had been king every year. I don't know whether this
was the result of continued chance or a family convention, but he
unfailingly found the bean in his piece of cake, and he would proclaim
Madame Chantal to be queen. Therefore, I was greatly surprised to find
something very hard, which almost made me break a tooth, in a mouthful
of cake. Gently I took this thing from my mouth and I saw that it was
a little porcelain doll, no bigger than a bean. Surprise caused me to
exclaim:

"Ah!" All looked at me, and Chantal clapped his hands and cried: "It's
Gaston! It's Gaston! Long live the king! Long live the king!"

All took up the chorus: "Long live the king!" And I blushed to the tip
of my ears, as one often does, without any reason at all, in situations
which are a little foolish. I sat there looking at my plate, with this
absurd little bit of pottery in my fingers, forcing myself to laugh and
not knowing what to do or say, when Chantal once more cried out: "Now,
you must choose a queen!"

Then I was thunderstruck. In a second a thousand thoughts and
suppositions flashed through my mind. Did they expect me to pick out one
of the young Chantal ladies? Was that a trick to make me say which one
I prefer? Was it a gentle, light, direct hint of the parents toward a
possible marriage? The idea of marr