"Why, Charles, have I not told you a thousand times about my school friend, Madeleine Silveyra, who is godmother by proxy of our little one? What are you thinking of?" "I have a very good memory, my dear Sophie," replied Dutertre, "because I have not forgotten that this young Mexican had such a singular kind of beauty that she inspired as much surprise as admiration." "The very same lady, my dear; after me, Madeleine acted as a mother to Antonine, as we said at school, where each large girl had the care of a child from ten to eleven years old; so, when I left school, I confided dear Antonine to the affection of St. Madeleine." "It is just that surname which was the cause of my mistake," replied Dutertre, "a surname which seems to me very ambitious or very humble for such a pretty person, for she must be near your age." "They gave Madeleine the name of saint at school because she deserved it, M. Dutertre," replied Antonine, with all the seriousness of fifteen years, "and while she was my little mother they continued to call her St. Madeleine, as they did in Sophie's time." "Was this Mlle. St. Madeleine a very austere devotee?" asked Dutertre. "Madeleine, like all people of her country,--we gave our French form to her name of Magdalena,--gave herself to a particular devotion. She had chosen the Christ, and her adoration for her Saviour became an ecstasy," replied Sophie; "besides, she united to this enthusiastic devotion the warmest heart and the most interesting, enjoyable mind in the world. But I pray you, Charles, let me read her letter. I am impatient. Just imagine, the first letter after two years of separation! Antonine and I felt a little bitter at her silence, but you see the first remembrance we receive from her disarms us." And taking the letter which Antonine had just given her, Sophie read, with an emotion which increased with every line. "Dear Madeleine, always tender and affectionate, always witty and bright, always so appreciative of any remembrance of the past. After a few days' rest at Marseilles, where she has arrived from Venice, she comes to Paris, almost at the same time her letter arrives, and she thinks only of the happiness of seeing Sophie, her friend, and her little girl Antonine, and she writes in haste to both of us, and signs herself as of old, St. Madeleine." "Then she is not married?" asked Charles Dutertre. "I do not know, my dear," replied his wife, "she signs only her baptismal name." "But why should I ask such an absurd question?--think of a married saint!" At that moment the servant entered, and, stopping on the threshold of the door, made a significant sign to her mistress, who replied: "You can speak, Julie, Mlle. Antonine is a part of the family." "Madame," said the servant, "Agatha wants to know if she must put the chicken on the spit if M. Pascal does not come?" "Certainly," said Madame Dutertre, "M. Pascal is a little late, but we expect him every minute."