were all the pictures about?"

"But is it, then, possible, _ma petite_, that you have had no
one to teach you all these things? And on Sundays, what do you
do then?" said the mother, while Nanette stared more and more
at Madelon, with round eyes.

"We generally go into the country on Sundays," said Madelon.
"Papa never goes to church, I am sure, or he would have taken
me. I will ask him to let me go again--I like it very much." It
was at this moment that they turned into the street in which
stood the hotel. "Ah! there is papa," cried Madelon, rushing
forward as she saw him coming towards them, and springing into
his arms. He had returned to the hotel for a late _déjeuner_,
and was in terrible dismay when Madelon, being sought for, was
nowhere to be found. One of the waiters said he had seen her
run out of the courtyard, and M. Linders was just going out to
look for her.

"_Mon Dieu!_ Madelon," he cried, "where, then, have you been?"

"I ran out, papa," said Madelon, abashed. "I am very sorry--I
will not do it again. I lost myself, but Monsieur and Madame
here showed me the way back."

Her friendly guides stood watching the two for a moment, as,
after a thousand thanks and acknowledgments, they entered the
hotel together.

"It is singular," said Madame; "he is handsome, and looks like