I tried to excuse her by citing the example of Moliere. Just at that moment it came to pass that, while climbing the ladder to get a book, she upset a whole shelf-row. There was a heavy crash; and Mademoiselle Prefere, being, of course, a very delicate person, almost fainted. Jeanne quickly followed the books to the foot of the ladder. She made one think of a kitten suddenly transformed into a woman, catching mice which had been transformed into old books. While picking them up, she found one which happened to interest her, and she began to read it, squatting down upon her heels. It was the “Prince Grenouille,” she told us. Mademoiselle Prefere took occasion to complain that Jeanne had so little taste for poetry. It was impossible to get her to recite Casimir Delavigne’s poem on the death of Joan of Arc without mistakes. It was the very most she could do to learn “Le Petit Savoyard.” The schoolmistress did not think that any one should read the “Prince Grenouille” before learning by heart the stanzas to Duperrier; and, carried away by her enthusiasm, she began to recite them in a voice sweeter than the bleating of a sheep: “Ta douleur, Duperrier, sera donc eternelle, Et les tristes discours Que te met en l’esprit l’amitie paternelle L’augmenteront toujours; . . . . . . . . . “Je sais de quels appas son enfance etait pleine, Et n’ai pas entrepris, Injurieux ami, de consoler ta peine Avecque son mepris.” Then in ecstacy, she exclaimed, “How beautiful that is! What harmony! How is it possible for any one not to admire such exquisite, such touching verses! But why did Malherbe call that poor Monsieur Duperrier his injurieux ami at a time when he had been so severely tied by the death of his daughter? Injurieux ami--you must acknowledge that the term is very harsh.” I explained to this poetical person that the phrase “Injurieux ami,” which shocked her so much, was in apposition, etc. etc. What I said, however, had so little effect towards clearing her head that she was seized with a severe and prolonged fit of sneezing. Meanwhile it was evident that the history of “Prince Grenouille” had proved extremely funny; for it was all that Jeanne could do, as she crouched down there on the carpet, to keep herself from bursting into a wild fit of laughter. But when she had finished with the prince and princess of the story, and the multitude of their children, she assumed a very suppliant expression, and begged me as a great favour to allow her to put on a white apron and go to the kitchen to help in getting the dinner ready.