come to the enchanting retreat to give herself up wholly to the joy of
living.

The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke
with something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that
they saw there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by
this woman and the children.

The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could not
see them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme.
Willemsens, who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent
complexion and bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes,
the fresh outlines, the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty.

The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything
about him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad,
high brow, with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He
was quick and alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a
trace of awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to
think about everything that he saw.

Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though
a lock here and there had deepened to the mother's chestnut tint.
Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle
grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There
was a gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was
something feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long,
wavy curls, and his mother would not have him give up embroidered
collars, and little jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped
buttons; evidently she took a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the