one in a big world? I really
don't know, and you've often said you didn't.

Of course, if it hadn't been for Ellaline--Madame's richest and most
important girl--persisting as she did, in her imperious, spoiled-child
way, Madame wouldn't have dreamed of engaging a young girl like me,
without any experience as a teacher, no matter how much she liked my
voice and my (or rather Larese's) method. I suppose no one would else
have risked me; so I certainly do owe to Ellaline, and nobody but
Ellaline, three happy and (fairly) prosperous years. To be sure, because
of my position at Madame de Maluet's, I have got a few outside pupils;
but that's indirectly through Ellaline, too, isn't it?

I'm reminding you of all these things so that you may have it clearly
before your mind just how much we do owe Ellaline, and judge whether the
payment she now asks is too big or not.

That's the way she puts it, not coarsely or crudely; but I know how she
feels.

She sent me a little note yesterday, while I was giving a lesson, to say
she'd a horrid headache, had gone to bed, and would I come to her room
as soon as I could. Well, I went at lunch time, for I hated to keep her
waiting, and thought I could eat later. As it turned out, I didn't eat
at all. But that's a detail.

She had on a perfectly divine nighty, with low neck and short sleeves
(no girl would be _allowed_ to wear such a thing in any but a French
school, I'm sure, even if she were a "parlour boarder") and her hair was
in curly waves over her shoulders. Altogether she looked adorable, and
about fourteen years old, instead of nearly nineteen, as she is.

"You don't show your headache a bit," said I.

"I haven't got one," said she.

Then she explained that she'd been dying for a chance to talk with me
alone, and the headache was the only thing that occurred to her in the
circumstances. She doesn't mind little fibs, you know. Indeed, I believe
she rather likes them, because any "intrigue," even the smallest, is
exciting to her.

You would never guess anything like what has happened.

That dragon of a guardian of hers is coming back at last from Bengal,
where he's been governor or something. Not that his coming would matter
particularly if it weren't for complications, but there are several, the
most formidable of which is a Young Man.

The Young Man is a French young man, and his name is Honore du Guesclin.
He is a lieutenant in the army (Ellaline mentioned the regiment w