cordially hated that father. Marie was then an infant, and Madame
Bauche had accepted the charge without much thought, perhaps, as to
what might be the child's ultimate destiny. But since then she had
thoroughly done the duty of a mother by the little girl, who had
become the pet of the whole establishment, the favourite plaything of
Adolphe Bauche, and at last of course his early sweetheart.

And then and therefore there had come troubles at Vernet. Of course
all the world of the valley had seen what was taking place and what
was likely to take place, long before Madame Bauche knew anything
about it. But at last it broke upon her senses that her son, Adolphe
Bauche, the heir to all her virtues and all her riches, the first
young man in that or any neighbouring valley, was absolutely
contemplating the idea of marrying that poor little orphan, Marie
Clavert!

That any one should ever fall in love with Marie Clavert had never
occurred to Madame Bauche. She had always regarded the child as a
child, as the object of her charity, and as a little thing to be
looked on as poor Marie by all the world. She, looking through her
green spectacles, had never seen that Marie Clavert was a beautiful
creature, full of ripening charms, such as young men love to look on.
Marie was of infinite daily use to Madame Bauche in a hundred little
things about the house, and the old lady thoroughly recognised and
appreciated her ability. But for this very reason she had never
taught herself to regard Marie otherwise than as a useful drudge.
She was very fond of her protegee--so much so that she would listen
to her in affairs about the house when she would listen to no one
else;--but Marie's prettiness and grace and sweetness as a girl had
all been thrown away upon Maman Bauche, as Marie used to call her.