and, in--let me
see--in 1793!"

"What an exquisite creature! Look, Josephine, did you ever see anything
so beautiful?"

"Beautiful!" repeated the grisette, with a sidelong glance at one of the
mirrors. "Beautiful, with such a coiffure and such a bodice! _Ciel!_ how
tastes differ!"

"But her face, Josephine!"

"What of her face? I'm sure it's plain enough."

"Plain! Good heavens! what..."

But it was not worth while to argue upon it. I pulled out one of the old
chairs, and so climbed near enough to dust the surface of the painting
with my handkerchief.

"I wish I could buy it!" I exclaimed.

Josephine burst into a loud laugh.

"_Grand Dieu_!" said she, half pettishly, "if you are so much in love
with it as all that, I dare say it would not be difficult!"

The _concierge_ shook her head.

"Everything on this estate is locked up," said she. "Nothing can be
sold, nothing given away, nothing even repaired, till the _proces_
is ended."

I sighed, and came down reluctantly from my perch. Josephine was visibly
impatient. She had seen the wedding-party going down one of the walks at
the back of the house; and the _concierge_ was waiting to let us out. I
drew her aside, and slipped a liberal gratuity into her hand.

"If I were to come down here some day with a friend of mine who is a
painter," I whispered, "would you have any objection, Madame, to allow
him to make a little sketch of that portrait?"

The _concierge_ looked into her palm, and seeing the value of the coin,
smiled, hesitated, put her finger to her lip, and said:--

"_Ma foi_, M'sieur, I believe I have no business to allow it; but--to
oblige a gentleman like you--if there was nobody about--"

I nodded. We understood each other sufficiently, and no more was needed.

Once out of the house, Medemoiselle Josephine pouted, and took upon
herself to be sulky--a disposition which was by no means lessened when,
after traversing the park in various directions in search of the bridal
company, we found that they had gone out long ago by a gate at the other
side of the estate, and were by this time piping, most probably, in the
adjoining parish.

It was now five o'clock; so we hastened back through the village, cast a
last glance at the grim old tower on its steep solitude, consigned
ourselves to the yellow omnibus, and in due time were once more flying
along the iron road towards Paris. The rapid motion, the dignity of
occupying a first-class seat, and, a