If the person who goes away knew how soon her injunctions are forgotten, she would not take the trouble to repeat them so many times. It is not always disinclination to comply with them on the part of those whom you leave in your place; but when you give your instructions, you cannot at the same time impart your habits, your intelligence, your rigidity, your searching glance, your observant mind--in a word, your nature; and everyone acts according to his nature. Landry, despite his moustaches and his surly manner, had a softer heart than his wife; and then, too, this persistent watching, this making one's self a spy upon one's daughter, is much more consonant with a woman's habit than with a man's. Moreover, as the old soldier had not the slightest doubt of his child's virtue, he did not understand why he must be incessantly on his guard, as with a prisoner who is always trying to escape. The first days that followed Dame Ragonde's departure brought about no change in Bathilde's usual mode of life, for it did not occur to her to ask leave to go out, and no one came to divert her. But one morning Ambroisine came to Landry's establishment, and was much surprised to be able to reach Bathilde's room without meeting her mother's sour face and hearing her say: "My daughter is busy; don't stay long, for it disturbs her." When she learned that her friend's mother was away from Paris, Ambroisine uttered a cry of joy, and said to Bathilde: "What! you have been free for several days, and you haven't sent me word or come to see me?" "You know very well that I never go out." "Because your mother is not willing; but when she is away----" "Oh! father wouldn't let me go out, either; mother is sure to have told him not to!" "Well, I will bet that he would; I will bet that your father will not be so strict, that he will understand that you have no pleasure, no distraction at all, and that it is not fair that a poor girl should pass her best days shut up in her room. Look you, I have a godmother, a nice old woman, a farmer's wife, who lives in the village of Vincennes. I never have time to go there, nor does my father; and yet Mère Moulineau--that is my godmother--often sends us little cheeses and cream, and begs us to come to see her. The poor woman is old and infirm and can't come to Paris. Every day, I say to father: 'To-morrow I will go to see my godmother Moulineau;' and he says: 'Go, my child.'--Well, Bathilde, if you like, I will take you with me, and we will sleep at godmother's. Ah! she will give us a warm welcome; she will be so glad to see me!" "Oh! father wouldn't allow me to sleep away from our house." "After all, perhaps you would find it tiresome at my godmother's.--By the way, it just occurs to me--the day after to-morrow is the day for the Fire of Saint-Jean on Place de Grève. Father has promised to take me there; I have never seen it, and they say it's beautiful; will you come with us?"