to give the word a kind of English accentuation. "Couldn't he come
to me some day for 'a cup of tea,' as our friends across the channel
say; he need only send me a 'blue' in the morning?"

I had not the least idea of what a 'blue' might be. I did not understand
half the words which the lady used, but my fear lest there should be
concealed in them some question which it would be impolite in me not to
answer kept me from withdrawing my close attention from them, and I was
beginning to feel extremely tired.

"No, no; it is impossible," said my uncle, shrugging his shoulders. "He
is kept busy at home all day; he has plenty of work to do. He brings
back all the prizes from his school," he added in a lower tone, so that
I should not hear this falsehood and interrupt with a contradiction.
"You can't tell; he may turn out a little Victor Hugo, a kind of
Vaulabelle, don't you know."

"Oh, I love artistic people," replied the lady in pink; "there is no
one like them for understanding women. Them, and really nice men like
yourself. But please forgive my ignorance. Who, what is Vaulabelle? Is
it those gilt books in the little glass case in your drawing-room? You
know you promised to lend them to me; I will take great care of them."

My uncle, who hated lending people books, said nothing, and ushered me
out into the hall. Madly in love with the lady in pink, I covered my
old uncle's tobacco-stained cheeks with passionate kisses, and while he,
awkwardly enough, gave me to understand (without actually saying) that
he would rather I did not tell my parents about this visit, I assured
him, with tears in my eyes, that his kindness had made so strong an
impression upon me that some day I would most certainly find a way of
expressing my gratitude. So strong an impression had it made upon me
that two hours later, after a string of mysterious utterances which did
not strike me as giving my parents a sufficiently clear idea of the new
importance with which I had been invested, I found it simpler to let
them have a full account, omitting no detail, of the visit I had paid
that afternoon. In doing this I had no thought of causing my uncle any
unpleasantness. How could I have thought such a thing, since I did not
wish it? And I could not suppose that my parents would see any harm in
a visit in which I myself saw none. Every day of our lives does not
some friend or other ask us to make his apologies, without fail, to some
woman to whom he has