teachers of singing and painting."

"Yes," I replied, "and I am going to visit the galleries."

"But what will you do there?" asked Madame S----.

"Why, copy, study."

"Oh, but you are so far from that point," she said earnestly.

You understand, this foolish woman judges me in that way; but pshaw.
What do I care? Yet put yourself in my place, and you will
comprehend my annoyance, my irritation.

The good God is cruel. He gives me nothing. To ask the simplest,
the most possible thing, to ask it as a mercy, as a happiness, to
believe in God, to pray to Him, and to have nothing! Oh! I can see
people scoffing at me because I bring God into everything. The
poorest thing, by resistance, gains value! My ugly temper gives
importance to everything. No, frankly, I must become sensible and
mount on my pedestal, raise myself above my troubles. Has it ever
happened that everything goes wrong with you? The hair dresses
badly, the hat tilts every minute, the flounce on my skirt tears
each step I take, pebbles get into my slippers, cutting through my
stockings, and prick my feet.

I returned exasperated, and that horrid dog, F----, leaped joyfully
upon me. I went upstairs and it pursued me with its caresses. I kept
my patience, but when I reached my room I gave it a kick, and it ran
howling under my bed, but after a couple of minutes came back,