"Miss Harz is correct; and we will both promise you our prayers. She,
too, is Catholic, I hope. No? I regret so, for her own sake; but your
brandy I reject, Victor; remember that, and offend me not by sending it.
You must not forget the fate of your malvoisie."

"Ah, madame, that was cruel! but I have forgiven you long since. I
think, however, that the grape-vines bore better that year than ever
before--thus watered, or wined, I mean.--Just think of it, Miss Harz! To
pour good wine round the roots of a Fontainebleau grape, rather than
replenish the springs of life with it! Was there ever waste like that
since Cleopatra dissolved her pearl in vinegar?"

"Miss Harz will agree with me that a principle that could not resist the
gift of a dozen bottles of choice wine was little worth. Of such stuff
was made not the fathers of your Revolution. But stay, there is an
explanation due to me, yet unrendered," she pursued, "I am a puzzled
_bourgeoise_, I confess," she said, shaking her head. "Come, Favraud,
explain. Who is this young lady?"

"A _bourgeoise_ also," I replied for him, anxious to turn the tide of
conversation into another channel for some reasons. "I had thought you
an expatriated marquise, at least, madame!" I continued. "As for me, I
am simply a governess."

"It is my glory, mademoiselle, to have been of that class to which
belonged Madame Roland herself, and which represented that _juste
milieu_ which maintained the balance of society in France. When the
dregs of the _bas peuple_ rose to the surface of the revolution,
commenced by the sound middle classes, we regarded the scum of