given place to the most lingering and caressing tones.

"What sort of pictures do you desire?" she asked. "Sacred, or profane?"

"Oh, a few of each," said Newman. "But I want something bright and gay."

"Something gay? There is nothing very gay in this solemn old Louvre. But
we will see what we can find. You speak French to-day like a charm. My
father has done wonders."

"Oh, I am a bad subject," said Newman. "I am too old to learn a
language."

"Too old? Quelle folie!" cried Mademoiselle Noemie, with a clear, shrill
laugh. "You are a very young man. And how do you like my father?"

"He is a very nice old gentleman. He never laughs at my blunders."

"He is very comme il faut, my papa," said Mademoiselle Noemie, "and as
honest as the day. Oh, an exceptional probity! You could trust him with
millions."

"Do you always obey him?" asked Newman.

"Obey him?"

"Do you do what he bids you?"

The young girl stopped and looked at him; she had a spot of color in
either cheek, and in her expressive French eye, which projected too much