Madame Lépine, who was a very amiable person and did her best to entertain her guests, asked Madame de Pontchartrain if her niece was musical. "Yes, madame," the old aunt replied; "Pélagie sings, and accompanies herself on the piano." Immediately all the young women begged Pélagie to sing them something. They hoped to find food for criticism. Pélagie demurred very awkwardly; she glanced at her aunt, who gave her a look which clearly signified _sing_; whereupon she rose; I escorted her to the piano and offered to accompany her. "No, monsieur," she said; "I will play my own accompaniment." Surely any other woman would have thanked me in a different way; but Pélagie was innocence itself, and I saw that she had not learned to embellish her speeches. She sang us an old ballad in six stanzas. The subject was love; but no one would have suspected it from listening to Pélagie, who imparted absolutely no expression to her voice or to the instrument. Any Parisian girl, even when fresh from her boarding school, would have played and sung much better than that; she would have rolled her eyes gracefully, whereas this one did not lift them from the keys; she would have put some soul into the words of love, whereas this one repeated them as coldly as possible. The comparison at the first blush seemed unfavorable to Pélagie; but when I reflected that that which prevented her from performing more brilliantly proved her innocence and virtue, I considered that her awkwardness was entirely to her credit. My sister was enraptured. She saw me sit beside Pélagie, speak to her often, escort her to the piano, and take her back to her chair. That was more than was necessary to indicate the birth of love; and, of course, it would naturally end in marriage. The party came to an end; everybody took their leave; but Amélie found an opportunity to present me to the great-aunt, who honored me with an almost affable glance. As I went downstairs, I found myself beside Pélagie; I could not do otherwise than offer her my hand. She looked at her aunt; a glance authorized her to accept, and she held out her hand as awkwardly as possible. I was careful to touch only the tips of her fingers; I had fallen in with the manners and customs of the town. However, the ladies lived only a few steps away; so we soon reached their house, where we left them after the three conventional bows; I observed, by the way, that Pélagie was very proficient in the matter of courtesies. When we reached home, Amélie turned the conversation upon Mademoiselle Pélagie; I expected it, and I let her talk with her husband. They vied with each other in extolling her to the skies. "She's a charming girl!" "Upon my word, she's the prettiest girl in Melun!" "And so perfectly well bred!" "Wonderfully so! a strict education; but what manners! what decorous behavior in company!" "She is innocence personified." "She's an excellent musician."