“Frimou--Frimousse--Friquet,” said Comtois. “That’s a queer name; however, I only asked so that I might know it; for you understand of course that mademoiselle will always be called by her baptismal name here. As I was saying, I am going to present you now. If madame was here, I should naturally take you to her first; but madame has been absent a fortnight; she has gone to see an aunt of hers, who’s sick. She wanted to take her daughter, but monsieur insisted on keeping Mademoiselle Ernestine with him; for, although he looks very stern, monsieur is very fond of her--he never refuses her anything; and sometimes I’ve even known him to be angry with madame, because he claimed that she spoke to mademoiselle too sharply, and that she didn’t love her. But, to be just, I must say that monsieur is mistaken; I am sure that madame’s very fond of her daughter. However, it’s true that sometimes she hardly speaks to her, she responds coldly to her caresses; but we all have days when we’re in ill humor, more or less.” Monsieur Gérondif blew his nose at great length, saying to himself: “Is this never going to finish?--My worthy man,” he said to Comtois, “excuse me if I interrupt you; but it seems to me that it is not necessary for me to be present at the introduction of our young Louise, as you tell me that the business is settled. So I will take my leave, urging you to watch over this child, as if she were your niece.” “Never fear, monsieur; mademoiselle is in a good family; I am quite sure that she won’t be unhappy here.” “Adieu then, Louise, adieu! I shall come to inquire for you, to learn how you are getting on; in short, I shan’t lose sight of you; you will always be my guiding star, my object, my--my polygon!” The girl offered her hand to Monsieur Gérondif, who seemed inclined to kiss her, and said in an undertone: “You will tell him that I am in Paris; won’t you, monsieur? that I didn’t hesitate to come, as he wished it, but that it makes me very depressed not to see him, and that my only desire----” “I shall say all that it is my duty to say,” replied the tutor, showing his teeth, although he had no desire to smile. Then, turning quickly on his heel, he saluted Comtois and went out. The valet escorted him to the door, and Monsieur Gérondif said in his ear: “This girl is very pretty, and the men in Paris are terribly licentious. I need not urge you to watch over her innocence and not allow her to converse with floor-washers.” “Monsieur,” Comtois replied rather stiffly, “none but respectable people are received in this house, and no young girl will ever be ruined here. If the last lady’s maid was a giddy creature, it wasn’t our fault; and at all events she was discharged at once, as well as the floor-washer.” “Your reply scatters all the clouds which might have obscured my firmament. Adieu, excellent Comtois, I repeat my assurances of esteem.”