"The last time that you came home to see father, I was, as you know, living with a rich lady who had taken a fancy to me and treated me as her daughter. Father gave his consent, for he thought the education I should receive with her might be of use to me some day. So I was at Clermont, with my patroness. She made me work hard--reading, and studying music; but I often regretted our little cottage, brother, where I could run and jump about and play when I pleased; while in my patroness's salon I always had to be neatly dressed, to stand very straight, and to give up all the games I had enjoyed in my childhood; in fact, Étienne, if I must admit it, I was sometimes depressed and often bored; but I dared not say so, for fear of seeming ungrateful. My greatest happiness was to sit at a window looking on the road; for from there I could see the fields and our village and our mountains; and as I worked at my embroidery, I often looked with a sigh in the direction of our cottage. "About five weeks ago, while I was at the window, I saw a young man ride by. He looked at me; I turned my eyes away, but I thought I could see that he bowed to me. The next day, he passed again and looked up again; and as I was sure that he bowed to me that time, I thought that it was courteous to do as much. Several days in succession he rode by; I was always at the window, always looking toward our village, but I knew very well when the young man was there. The window was not very far from the ground; he rode near and said a few words to me, which I didn't listen to the first day, but which I answered on the second. In short--I don't know how it happened, but, before long, Monsieur Albert--he was the young man on horseback--told me that he loved me, and I confessed that I loved him too. Ah! brother, if you knew how happy he looked when I told him that; he declared that he couldn't live without me, and I urged him to go to the village to see father and ask his permission to marry me. The next day, he came with a very downcast air, and told me that he had seen father, who had refused his consent to our marriage; then I told him to see my patroness, but he said that she had other projects for me; that he knew that she intended to marry me to a very rich old gentleman whom she expected at Clermont any day. At that I wept, but Albert said to me: 'There's only one way for us to avoid being parted; that is, for you to consent to come to Paris with me; we will be married at once, and then our parents will have to forgive us.'--I refused at first; but he begged so hard, swearing that I should surely be his wife, and there was so much love in his eyes and in my heart, that I ended by giving way.--'I will take you to Paris,' he said; 'and when we are married, I'll write to your father to join us there.'--Then I thought of you, and I said: 'I have a brother in Paris, his name's Étienne, and he's a fine fellow;'--but--I mustn't lie to you--I didn't tell him you were a