practice undisturbed by visitors. At seven, however, I used to meet
with an interruption from my German professor. Poor man! I now pity
his old rheumatic limbs stumbling over the ice and snow to be with me
at that unreasonable hour of the morning. But I then was ruthless, and
would not allow him even five minutes grace, for my time was then
regulated like clockwork, and a delay of a few moments would cause an
unpardonable gap in my day. Now, however, that my education is
nominally finished, I feel that I may without self-reproach indulge in
some extra moments of repose, for it is impossible for one to work
_all_ the time; and a quiet hour of reflection is often, I think, as
useful as continual reading or writing.

We indulge in very simple morning toilettes here, as we have no
gentleman guests for whom to dress, nor ladies to criticise us;
consequently a few brief moments before the mirror suffice to make us
presentable. A black print wrapper made Gabrielle-fashion, with our
hair brushed off plain from our faces, and flowing loosely _à la belle
sauvage_, or in cool braids, is the order of the day. Even Marguerite,
who is the most conventional of our quartette, has conformed to the
fashion reigning here, and no longer coiffed in the stylish
_Impératrice_ mode, her sunny brown hair floats over her shoulders
unconfined by hair-pins, cushions, or rats. Truly we live in Arcadian
simplicity, for under our roof there are neither curling nor crimping
irons, nor even a _soupçon_ of the most innocent _poudre de riz_.

At half-past eight a little hand-bell, silver in material and tone,
summons us to the breakfast-room. This room is on the ground floor,
and is one of the prettiest in the house. Four windows give us an
extended view of our Dame Châtelaine's sloping meadows and wooded
hills, and the carriage road winding off towards the pine grove and the