In the morning the notary sent to her to show her how to set about her work. He had promised himself to preserve for the first few days a hypocritical reserve with respect to his new servant, in order to inspire her with confidence; but smitten by her beauty, which by daylight was even more striking, blinded, maddened by his desires, which already got the better of him, he stammered out some compliments as to the figure and beauty of Cecily. She, with keen sagacity, had judged that, from her first interview with the notary, he was completely caught in her spells; at the confession he made of his flame, she thought it policy to cast aside at once her feigned timidity, and, as we have said, to change her mask. The creole suddenly assumed a bold air. Jacques Ferrand again complimented her beauty and her graceful figure. "Look at me well!" said Cecily to him, in a bold tone. "Although I am dressed as an Alsatian peasant, do I look like a servant?" "What do you mean?" cried Jacques Ferrand. "Look at this hand, does it appear accustomed to hard labour?" and she presented a white, delicate hand, with long and slender fingers, with nails as rosy and polished as agate, but whose root, slightly browned, betrayed the creole blood. "And this foot, is it that of a servant?" and she protruded a beautiful small foot, coquettishly shod, which the notary had not before remarked, and from which he only removed his eyes to gaze on Cecily with amazement. "I told my Aunt Pipelet what story I chose; she knew nothing of my former life, and believes me reduced to my present condition through the death of my parents, and takes me for a servant,--but you, I hope, have too much sagacity to show her error, dear master." "Who, then, are you?" exclaimed Jacques Ferrand, more and more surprised at her language. "That is my secret. For reasons best known to myself I was obliged to quit Germany in this attire. I wished to remain concealed in Paris for some time, being as secluded as possible. My aunt, supposing me reduced to misery, proposed to me your service, telling me of the solitary life which I must of compulsion lead in your house, informing me that I should never have leave to quit it. I accepted the offer unhesitatingly,--without knowing it my aunt had anticipated my most earnest desire. Who would think of looking for and finding me here?" "And what have you done to compel you to seek concealment?" "Agreeable sins, perhaps; but that is, also, my secret." "And what are your intentions, mademoiselle?"