After tea, Paulina’s quick needle and pretty
golden thimble were busily plied by the lamp-light,
but her tongue rested, and her eyes seemed reluctant
to raise often their lids, so smooth and so full-fringed.
Graham, too, must have been tired with his day’s
work: he listened dutifully to his elders and
betters, said very little himself, and followed with
his eye the gilded glance of Paulina’s thimble;
as if it had been some bright moth on the wing, or
the golden head of some darting little yellow serpent.
A BURIAL.
From this date my life did not want variety; I went
out a good deal, with the entire consent of Madame
Beck, who perfectly approved the grade of my acquaintance.
That worthy directress had never from the first treated
me otherwise than with respect; and when she found
that I was liable to frequent invitations from a chateau
and a great hotel, respect improved into distinction.
Not that she was fulsome about it: Madame, in
all things worldly, was in nothing weak; there was
measure and sense in her hottest pursuit of self-interest,
calm and considerateness in her closest clutch of gain;
without, then, laying herself open to my contempt as
a time-server and a toadie, she marked with tact that
she was pleased people connected with her establishment
should frequent such associates as must cultivate
and elevate, rather than those who might deteriorate
and depress. She never praised either me or my
friends; only once when she was sitting in the sun
in the garden, a cup of coffee at her elbow and the
Gazette in her hand, looking very comfortable, and
I came up and asked leave of absence for the evening,
she delivered herself in this gracious sort:—
“Oui, oui, ma bonne amie: je vous donne
la permission de coeur et de gre. Votre travail
dans ma maison a toujours ete admirable, rempli de
zele et de discretion: vous avez bien le droit
de vous amuser. Sortez donc tant que vous voudrez.
Quant a votre choix de connaissances, j’en suis
contente; c’est sage, digne, laudable.”
She closed her lips and resumed the Gazette.
The reader will not too gravely regard the little
circumstance that about this time the triply-enclosed
packet of five letters temporarily disappeared from
my bureau. Blank dismay was naturally my first
sensation on making the discovery; but in a moment
I took heart of grace.
“Patience!” whispered I to myself.
“Let me say nothing, but wait peaceably; they
will come back again.”
And they did come back: they had only been on
a short visit to Madame’s chamber; having passed
their examination, they came back duly and truly:
I found them all right the next day.
