“Ah me!” said Anna, “animals have more sense than the wise men who preserve them in glass-cases.” Jules left the room, sad at heart, for the talent, beauty, and brightness of this good soul was struggling with the concert of vulgar coins which his red-haired bride was bringing to his door. {281} “Ah!” exclaimed Professor Granarius, “what have we here in the papers? Listen, Anna. “ ‘Thanks to the efforts of the learned Professor Granarius, assisted by his clever pupil Jules Sauval, ten grains of cochineal have been obtained on the Nopal in the great palm-house. Doubtless this culture will flourish in our African possessions, and will free us from the tribute we pay to the new world. Thus the expense of the great palm-house has been justified—against which opposition was not slow to make itself heard—but the costly structure will yet render many valuable services to French commerce and agriculture. M. J. Sauval is named Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.’ ” “M. Jules behaves badly to us,” said Anna, “for you have commenced the history of the _Coccus cacti_, and he has impudently taken up”—— “Bah!” said the professor, “he is my pupil.” [Illustration] {282} LOVE ADVENTURES OF A FRENCH CAT. MINETTE TO BÉBÉ. FIRST LETTER. [Illustration] “What will you say, my dear Bébé, on receiving this letter from your sister supposed to be dead, for whom you have doubtless wept, as one who is almost forgotten. “Forgive me, my sister, for supposing that you can ever forget me, although we live in a world where many more than the dead are forgotten. “First of all I write to tell you I am not dead, that my love for you is as strong as ever, and that I am still animated by the hope of one day rejoining you, alas! my sister, that day may be far distant. “This evening I thought about our good mother, who was always so kind and careful of our toilet, whose delight it was to watch the flicker of the fire-light on our glossy, silken coats, and to train us in the paths of domestic peace, virtue, and sobriety. I was touchingly reminded of our simple family-life, with its happy days, and innocent frolic, all hallowed by the light of love. Yet the brightness of that light of true hearts casts many dark shadows across my path, shadows of regret for neglected ministries of tenderness to my mother who is now perhaps no more. Above the sentiment that prompts me to write, is the desire to make a regretful confession of the circumstances which separated me from the dear ones at home. {283} “Silently I took up the pen, and the result is before you. I am bending over my task by the dim light of an alabaster lamp, carefully shaded from the eyes of my sleeping mistress.