“Oh! I am thinking,” said Jacqueline, “of many things. I have a secret, papa, that I want to tell you when we are quite alone. Don’t be jealous, dear mamma. It is something about a surprise--Oh, a lovely surprise for you.” “Saint Clotilde’s day-my fete-day is still far off,” said Madame de Nailles, refastening, mother-like, the ribbon that was intended to keep in order the rough ripples of Jacqueline’s unruly hair, “and usually your whisperings begin as the day approaches my fete.” “Oh, dear!--you will go and guess it!” cried Jacqueline in alarm. “Oh! don’t guess it, please.” “Well! I will do my best not to guess, then,” said the good-natured Clotilde, with a laugh. “And I assure you, for my part, that I am discretion itself,” said M. de Nailles. So saying, he drew his wife’s arm within his own, and the three passed gayly together into the dining-room. CHAPTER II. A CLEVER STEPMOTHER No man took more pleasure than M. de Nailles in finding himself in his own home--partly, perhaps, because circumstances compelled him to be very little there. The post of deputy in the French Chamber is no sinecure. He was not often an orator from the tribune, but he was absorbed by work in the committees--“Harnessed to a lot of bothering reports,” as Jacqueline used to say to him. He had barely any time to give to those important duties of his position, by which, as is well known, members of the Corps Legislatif are shamelessly harassed by constituents, who, on pretence that they have helped to place the interests of their district in your hands, feel authorized to worry you with personal matters, such as the choice of agricultural machines, or a place to be found for a wet-nurse.