“Ah! from Marquis’s! What a spoiled little girl it is!” She patted my cheek with her white fingers, and then as her eyes fell on a large jar she looked surprised. “That’s cold cream,” said my mother. “I make it myself, and I should like my little girl’s face and hands to be rubbed with it every night when she goes to bed.” “But——” began Madame Fressard. “Oh, I’ll pay double laundry expenses for the sheets,” interrupted my mother impatiently. (Ah, my poor mother! I remember quite well that my sheets were changed once a month, like those of the other pupils.) The farewell moment came at last, and every one gathered round mamma, and finally carried her off, after a great deal of kissing and with all kinds of consoling words. “It will be so good for her—it is just what she needs—you’ll find her quite changed when you see her again”—&c. &c. The General, who was very fond of me, picked me up in his arms and tossed me in the air. “You little chit,” he said; “they are putting you into barracks, and you’ll have to mind your behaviour!” I pulled his long moustache, and he said, winking, and looking in the direction of Madame Fressard, who had a slight moustache, “You mustn’t do that to the lady, you know!” My aunt laughed heartily, and my mother gave a little stifled laugh, and the whole troop went off in a regular whirlwind of rustling skirts and farewells, whilst I was taken away to the cage where I was to be imprisoned. I spent two years at this pension. I was taught reading, writing, and reckoning. I also learnt a hundred new games. I learnt to sing _rondeaux_ and to embroider handkerchiefs for my mother. I was relatively happy there, as we always went out somewhere on Thursdays and Sundays, and this gave me the sensation of liberty. The very ground in the street seemed to me quite different from the ground of the large garden belonging to the pension. Besides, there were little festivities at Madame Fressard’s which used to send me into raptures. Mlle. Stella Colas, who had just made her _début_ at the Théâtre Français, came sometimes on Thursdays and recited poetry to us. I could never sleep a wink the night before, and in the morning I used to comb my hair carefully and get ready, my heart beating fast with excitement, in order to listen to something I did not understand at all, but which nevertheless left me spell-bound. Then, too, there was quite a legend attached to this pretty girl. She had flung herself almost under the horses’ feet as the Emperor was driving along, in order to attract his attention and obtain the pardon of her brother, who had conspired against his sovereign.