I asked after all the people I could think of, beginning with those of least interest--the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker. Some were dead; some had retired and had left their "commerce" to their children and children-in-law. Three different school-masters had kept the school since I had left. Thank Heaven, there was still the school--much altered, it is true. I had forgotten to look for it. [Illustration: THE OLD APPLE-TREE.] She had no remembrance of my name, or the Seraskiers'--I asked, with a beating heart. We had left no trace. Twelve short years had effaced all memory of us! But she told me that a gentleman, _decore, mais tombe en enfance_, lived at a _maison de sante_ in the Chaussee de la Muette, close by, and that his name was le Major Duquesnois; and thither I went, after rewarding and warmly thanking her. I inquired for le Major Duquesnois, and I was told he was out for a walk, and I soon found him, much aged and bent, and leaning on the arm of a Sister of Charity. I was so touched that I had to pass him two or three times before I could speak. He was so small--so pathetically small! [Illustration: M. LE MAJOR.] It was a long time before I could give him an idea of who I was--Gogo Pasquier! Then after a while he seemed to recall the past a little. "Ha, ha! Gogo--gentil petit Gogo!--oui--oui--l'exercice? Portez ... arrrmes! arrmes ... bras? Et Mimse? bonne petite Mimse! toujours mal a la tete?" He could just remember Madame Seraskier; and repeated her name several times and said, "Ah! elle etait bien belle, Madame Seraskier!" In the old days of fairy-tale telling, when he used to get tired and I still wanted him to go on, he had arranged that if, in the course of the story, he suddenly brought in the word "Cric," and I failed to immediately answer "Crac," the story would be put off till our next walk (to be continued in our next!) and he was so ingenious in the way he brought in the terrible word that I often fell into the trap, and had to forego my delight for that afternoon. I suddenly thought of saying "Cric!" and he immediately said "Crac!" and laughed in a touching, senile way--"Cric!--Crac! c'est bien ca!" and then he became quite serious and said-- "Et la suite au prochain numero!" After this he began to cough, and the good Sister said-- "Je crains que monsieur ne le fatigue un peu!" So I had to bid him good-bye; and after I had squeezed and kissed his hand, he made me a most courtly bow, as though I had been a complete stranger.