Her French grandpère was very nice, and she set to work to learn French as quickly as she could, in order to be able to converse with him not only in the English tongue but also in his own. The young new wife said that _la petite_ Comtesse was altogether of the most ravishing. The old Comte said nothing at all, but he looked at _la petite_ out of his twinkling black eyes and tried hard to see her father in that bonny little brown face--in those steadfast, deep, very dark eyes and in those smiling coral lips, but although little Margot had the dark eyes of her father, very dark and very beautiful, she had what was better for herself, the soul of her mother. It was because of that soul that Kathleen Desmond had been so loved and because further she had happened to impart that soul to her little child Margot, who was in consequence more Irish than French. Nevertheless she must remain for three months with Madame la Comtesse and with Monsieur le Comte, her grandpère. There was one relief, however, for her. She had little or no affection for her French relations, but she did most truly adore the idea of going to school at Arles and of learning something about French girls in general. Madame la Comtesse had most solemnly promised dear Uncle Jacko to send her to school and Marguerite waited impatiently for the day and hour when she might commence her studies. The day and hour, however, seemed to be a long way off. Each day as it came she was expected to devote all her time to her grandpère and to make the old man laugh by her funny attempts at the French language. Still there was no talk of school. There was, however, a vast amount of talk of dress. "_Mon_ grandpère" laughed until he could hardly stop laughing when he saw Margot in her pretty French costumes. He chuckled when she attempted to imitate his French and Madame kept on saying, "_Fi donc, fi donc!_ Ah! but thou mightst be a child of three and thirty to hear thee talk. See, behold! How thou dost make thy grandpère laugh. Thou dost do him much good. _Fi donc, petite_ Comtesse, thou must not make him laugh till he expires. Has he not already the liver too pronounced? We must take care of him, _ma petite_. He wishes for thy company and I--behold I have my château. _Tiens!_ it comforts me not a little." Margot gazed with some amazement at her young grandmother. "Thou hast made a promise, _ma_ grand'mère," she exclaimed. "The days fly and you do not fulfil it--you do not carry it out. See, behold, Madame, it is of the most religious. You said it with those lips to the holiest man in the world. Behold, Madame, there will come a curse on thee if thou dost not carry it out." "_Non, non, non_," cried Madame, in great distress of mind. "Speak not so cruelly, _ma petite_ Comtesse. See, _mon enfant_, I love thee. Thou shalt have another chapeau."