Madame Bonheur died in 1833. The father then placed the three elder children with an honest woman--La Mère Cathérine--who lived in the Champs Elysées; Juliette, the youngest, being sent to friends in Bordeaux. La Mère sent her little charges to the Mutual School of Chaillot. Rosa, now in her eleventh year, and detesting books and confinement as heartily as ever, generally contrived to avoid the school-room, and spent most of her time in the grassy and wooded spots afforded in the Bois de Boulogne, and other environs of Paris. Two years passed thus; the children being plainly clad and living on the humblest fare. Rosa meanwhile, with her passion for independence and outdoor life, incurred almost daily the angry reprimands of La Mère Cathérine, who was distressed at her neglect of school for her rambles. “I never spent an hour of fine weather indoors during the whole of the time,” she often said. But this sort of gipsy life could not last. Raymond Bonheur married again, took a house in the Faubourg du Roule, brought the three children home, and endeavored to put them in a way to make a position for themselves. The two boys--Auguste and Isidore--were placed in a respectable school, in which their father gave three lessons a week by way of payment; and Rosa, who could not be got to learn any thing out of a book, and seemed to have neither taste nor talent for any thing but rambling about in the sunshine, was placed with a seamstress, in order that she might learn to make a living by her needle. Nothing could have been more disagreeable to the poor girl than the monotonous employment to which she was thus condemned. The mere act of sitting still on a chair was torture to her active temperament; she ran the needle into her fingers at every stitch, and bending over her hated task made her head ache, and filled her with inexpressible weariness and disgust. The husband of the seamstress was a turner, and had his lathe in an adjoining room. Rosa’s sole consolation was to slip into this room, and obtain the turner’s permission to help him work the lathe. If he were absent, she would do her utmost to set the lathe in motion by herself, more than once doing some damage to the turner’s tools. But these stolen pleasures were insufficient to compensate her for the repulsiveness of her new avocation; and whenever her father, with his pockets full of bonbons, came to see her and learn how she was getting on, she would throw herself into his arms in a passion of tears, and beseech him to take her away. Every week her distress became more and more evident; she lost her appetite and color, and was apparently falling ill. Her father was much disappointed at the ill success of his attempt to make of his wild daughter an orderly and industrious needle-woman; but he was too fond of her to persevere in an experiment so repugnant to her feelings. He therefore broke off the arrangement with the seamstress, and took her home.