'Eh bien, my dear cheaile, I find myself better this morning, and we must
return to our lessons. Je veux m'habiller, ma chère Maud; you will wait me
in the school-room.'

By this time Madame, who, though lazy, could make an effort, and was
capable of getting into a sudden hurry, had placed herself before her
dressing-table, and was ogling her discoloured and bony countenance in the
glass.

'Wat horror! I am so pale. Quel ennui! wat bore! Ow weak av I grow in two
three days!'

And she practised some plaintive, invalid glances into the mirror. But on a
sudden there came a little sharp inquisitive frown as she looked over the
frame of the glass, upon the terrace beneath. It was only a glance, and she
sat down languidly in her arm-chair to prepare, I suppose, for the fatigues
of the toilet.

My curiosity was sufficiently aroused to induce me to ask--

'But why, Madame, do you fancy that Lady Knollys dislikes you?'

''Tis not fancy, my dear Maud. Ah ha, no! Mais c'est toute une
histoire--too tedious to tell now--some time maybe--and you will learn when
you are little older, the most violent hatreds often they are the most
without cause. But, my dear cheaile, the hours they are running from us,
and I must dress. Vite, vite! so you run away to the school-room, and I
will come after.'