her to compel obedience and repress the little evil that existed in
the girl's soul. Mother and daughter had never been parted; thus
Cecile had, what is more rare in young girls than is generally
supposed, a purity of thought, a freshness of heart, and a naivete of
nature, real, complete, and flawless.

"Your dress is enough to make me reflect," said Madame Beauvisage.
"Did Simon Giguet say anything to you yesterday that you are hiding
from me?"

"Dear mamma," said Cecile in her mother's ear, "he bores me; but there
is no one else for me in Arcis."

"You judge him rightly; but wait till your grandfather has given an
opinion," said Madame Beauvisage, kissing her daughter, whose reply
proved her good-sense, though it also revealed the breach made in her
innocence by the idea of marriage.

Severine was devoted to her father; she and her daughter allowed no
one but themselves to take charge of his linen; they knitted his socks
for him, and gave the most minute care to his comfort. Grevin knew
that no thought of self-interest had entered their affection; the
million they would probably inherit could not dry their tears at his
death; old men are very sensible to disinterested tenderness. Every
morning before going to see him, Madame Beauvisage and Cecile attended
to his dinner for the next day, sending him the best that the market
afforded.

Madame Beauvisage had always desired that her father would present her
at the Chateau de Gondreville and connect her with the count's