"If I am taken to the milliner's,'What is the use of selecting any particular shape?' says that lady. 'With a face like mademoiselle's any style is equally charming and becoming.' "The dressmaker declares that my figure is so wonderfully elegant that, dressed in a loosely fitting sack, I should drive the ladies most famed for their perfection of form wild with envy. "It is the same with the shoemaker, who declares that he will have to make a special last for me, never having worked for the possessor of so small a foot as mine. "The glovemaker outdoes him even, by declaring that I have the hand of a dwarf. "So you see, my dear mother, I may almost consider myself a phenomenon, fit for a museum. "Oh, mother, mother, it was not in this way that you spoke when, taking my face in your two hands, and kissing me on the forehead, you said: "'My poor Ernestine, you are not beautiful, or even pretty, but the candour and sweetness of your disposition are so plainly written on your expressive face that I do not regret your lack of beauty.' "And these words of praise, the only ones, I believe, that you ever gave me, I believed, and they made me very happy. "But alas! the daughter you so fondly loved, has she remained worthy of you? I do not know. I am not sure. "Then I knew nothing of doubts, suspicion, and mockery! And for several days past cruel presentiments have taken such a hold on me that I am as much astonished as alarmed. "There must be something terribly insidious in the effects of flattery, for--to you I must confess all--though I have often thought the praises lavished upon me must be exaggerated, I wondered why it should be that so many different people should be so unanimous in praising everything I said and did. "Nor is this all. "The other day Madame de la Rochaigue took me to a concert. I soon perceived that everybody was looking at me. A number of persons even passed and repassed me several times, to examine me more closely, I suppose, though I was very simply dressed. Even when I come out of church I notice that every one stares at me. I mention the fact, and my guardian and his family say: 'Yes, you are right. Everybody does stare at you. See what a sensation you create everywhere!' "And, in the face of this evidence, what can I say? Nothing. "I must admit that all this flattery was becoming very pleasant to me. It surprised me less and less, and though it sometimes occurred to me how grossly exaggerated it was, I promptly silenced any misgivings on the subject, by saying to myself: "'But if this is not true, why is the sensation I create--as my guardian says--so general?' "Alas! I was soon to learn. "This is what occurred: