For on their advent Iorson would dash out bareheaded into the night, to
reappear in an incredibly short time carrying a loaf nearly as tall as
himself.

One morning a stalwart young Briton brought to breakfast a pretty
English cousin, on leave of absence from her boarding-school. His
knowledge of French was limited. When anything was wanted he shouted
"Garçon!" in a lordly voice, but it was the pretty cousin who gave the
order. _Déjeûner_ over, they departed in the direction of the Château.
And at sunset as we chanced to stroll along the Boulevard de la Reine,
we saw the pretty cousin, all the gaiety fled from her face, bidding her
escort farewell at the gate of a Pension pour Demoiselles. The ball was
over. Poor little Cinderella was perforce returning to the dust and
ashes of learning.

[Illustration: Juvenile Progress]




CHAPTER III

THE TOWN


The English-speaking traveller finds Versailles vastly more foreign than
the Antipodes. He may voyage for many weeks, and at each distant
stopping-place find his own tongue spoken around him, and his
conventions governing society. But let him leave London one night, cross
the Channel at its narrowest--and most turbulent--and sunrise will find