equal the great Murillo,' as he always called the Assumption.

'There is nothing like a fine ambition,' observed my uncle.

'Except a proper appreciation of one's powers,' said my aunt slyly, and yet with a twinkle of admiring hope in her kindly mother's eyes.

CHAPTER III.

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE FOREST.

HIS little talk was interrupted by the entrance of Marie Sarci, the 'intended' of cousin Blanchard; a dainty little person,

about our own age; a brunette, of beautiful small features, large black eyes, and a most benign expression. She came in at the door timidly, and glanced like a fawn at the strangers. But her blushes and pretty mauvaise honte were relieved by a small companion, whom she held by the hand, and to whom she quickly contrived to divert our attention.

This was her young sister, a very fat and rosyfaced child of three years' old, to whom Marie observed

Say good-morning, Fanfan. How! wilt thee not say the good-day? Ah, fi-donc !'

'Is this the way one comes to Madame David's

house in the morning?' said Pauline, who had left her seat at the table, and stooped down to lift the child into her arms. 'Do people come in without saying good-morning? Come then, embrace me, Fanfan. So, that is well. Now come and kiss Madame, and all these ladies.'

The child gazed with her great round brown eyes from one to the other; and suffered herself to be carried round and present her chubby pursed-up crimson lips for each person to kiss her cheeks, while she responded by a chirrup of her mouth.

This considerate diversion of our attention enabled Marie to gain the chair which Blanchard had placed for her between himself and his mother.

'Will you have some breakfast, Marie ?'

'No, thanks; I've already breakfasted.'

'What! no strawberries? no fromage?' exclaimed Blanchard. 'Who ever refused the good mother's

cheese?'

'Not I,' said Marie.

'Of course not,' said Madame. It is much better than my son, is it not, little one?'

'When one wants to eat strawberries—yes,' replied Marie. 'At all other times—no,' she said softly.

'Then I've a great mind not to give you any of these fine strawberries,' said Blanchard, heaping her plate at the same time with some of the best, and ob

serving—‘Now, ungrateful, eat all up, and make my only rival disappear out of my sight.'

While this little love-scene went on under aunt David's auspices, we others and Pauline-who fed Fanfan with strawberries from her own plate-arranged with uncle Désiré and Emile our plans for the day. Emile wished us to go first to the chateau, but we all observed we knew it by heart, we had been through it so often.

'But you have not seen Winterhalter's splendid picture of Eugénie and the ladies of her Court,' said Emile. 'Ah, that is a group of portraits! so simple, so living, so full of grace!'

'We are not allowed to see it, are we?' asked Cerise doubtingly. 'Is it not too precious for vulgar eyes?'

Another of Cerise's remarks which felt like a drop of cold water to me.

'Persons are not generally allowed into the few rooms which their Majesties retain as perfectly private,' replied Emile. It is not much, when so very much is open to us. We should not complain.'

6

'Clémence says they are our property, and all they have is ours,' said Cerise; 'therefore that fine picture of which you speak belongs to the nation.'

'In their private capacity their Majesties have their private goods,' replied Emile. 'But it is useless

to argue with so great a revolutionist as my little cousin. Shall you like to see this picture, which you claim as part of your property, Cerise?'

'I like to see the Empress when she smiles at Aurée and me; I like her en bonne femme; and also when I see her coming in or out of the Maison-Dieu, when she visits the sick and cheers them with kind words; but at present I prefer seeing the forest, the wild-flowers, the rocks.'

'Can we not do both?' said I, anxious to gratify Emile.

'Yes,' replied Emile; 'Monsieur de B— is kind; he knows me-he permits me to enter the private rooms on occasions.'

'Then we shall take the chateau on our way to the valley de la Solle, and we can return by the fine point of view over the river,' said Pauline.

Agreed! agreed!' we all cried, for indeed anything was delightful to us.

'Now come and see the pheasants,' said our uncle, you have no more time to lose. Remember we dine at four o'clock.'

'for

Then we went out into the garden to see the hundreds of little brown birds which ran about the walks, so that it required some care to avoid treading upon and annihilating them. They were of all sizes; some fully fledged and very pretty; some awkward