fancy, especially when I am going to sleep, how glad I should be to
see my poor mother no longer compelled to go out, whatever the
weather, to buy our little provisions, at her age. I should like her
to have a servant who, every morning before she was up, would bring
her up her coffee, nicely sweetened with white sugar. And she loves
reading novels, poor dear soul! Well, and I would rather see her
wearing out her eyes over her favorite books than over twisting her
bobbins from morning till night. And again, she ought to have a little
good wine. In short, I should like to see her comfortable--she is so
good."

"Then she has shown you great kindness?"

"Oh yes," said the girl, in a tone of conviction. Then, after a short
pause, during which the two young people stood watching Madame
Crochard, who had got to the middle of the rustic bridge, and was
shaking her finger at them, Caroline went on:

"Oh yes, she has been so good to me. What care she took of me when I
was little! She sold her last silver forks to apprentice me to the old
maid who taught me to embroider.--And my poor father! What did she not
go through to make him end his days in happiness!" The girl shivered
at the remembrance, and hid her face in her hands.--"Well! come! let
us forget past sorrows!" she added, trying to rally her high spirits.
She blushed as she saw that Roger too was moved, but she dared not
look at him.

"What was your father?" he asked.

"He was an opera-dancer before the Revolution," said she, with an air