t one of the days which he set apart for our visits, I
took advantage of the fact that my parents had had luncheon earlier
than usual; I slipped out and, instead of going to read the playbills on
their column, for which purpose I was allowed to go out unaccompanied,
I ran all the way to his house. I noticed before his door a carriage and
pair, with red carnations on the horses' blinkers and in the coachman's
buttonhole. As I climbed the staircase I could hear laughter and a
woman's voice, and, as soon as I had rung, silence and the sound of
shutting doors. The man-servant who let me in appeared embarrassed, and
said that my uncle was extremely busy and probably could not see me; he
went in, however, to announce my arrival, and the same voice I had heard
before said: "Oh, yes! Do let him come in; just for a moment; it will be
so amusing. Is that his photograph there, on your desk? And his mother
(your niece, isn't she?) beside it? The image of her, isn't he? I should
so like to see the little chap, just for a second."

I could hear my uncle grumbling and growing angry; finally the
manservant told me to come in.

On the table was the same plate of marchpanes that was always there; my
uncle wore the same alpaca coat as on other days; but opposite to him,
in a pink silk dress with a great necklace of pearls about her throat,
sat a young woman who was just finishing a tangerine. My uncertainty
whether I ought to address her as Madame or Mademoiselle made me blush,
and not daring to look too much in her direction, in case I should be
obliged to speak to her, I hurried across to kiss my uncle. She looked
at me and smiled; my uncle said "My nephew!" without telling her my name
or telling me hers, doubtless because, since his difficulties with
my grandfather, he had endeavoured as far as possible to avoid any
association of his family with this other class of acquaintance.

"How like his mother he is," said the lady.

"But you have never seen my niece, except in photographs," my uncle
broke in quickly, with a note of anger.

"I beg your pardon, dear friend, I passed her on the staircase last year
when you were so ill. It is true I only saw her for a moment, and your
staircase is rather dark; but I saw well enough to see how lovely she
was. This young gentleman has her beautiful eyes, and also this," she
went on, tracing a line with one finger across the lower part of her
forehead. "Tell me," she asked my uncle, "is your niec