steady, frank look of an inquisitive child, bowed slightly to him, and
they all left the room by a door opening on the lawn.

Madame de Tecle, while responding courteously to the graceful speeches of
Camors, walked on with a light and rapid step, her fairy-like little
shoes leaving their impression on the smooth fine sand of the path.

She walked with indescribable, unconscious grace; with that supple,
elastic undulation which would have been coquettish had it not been
undeniably natural. Reaching the wall that enclosed the right side of
the park, she opened a wicket that led into a narrow path through a large
field of ripe corn. She passed into this path, followed in single file
by Mademoiselle Marie and by Camors. Until now the child had been very
quiet, but the rich golden corn-tassels, entangled with bright daisies,
red poppies, and hollyhocks, and the humming concert of myriads of flies-
blue, yellow, and reddishbrownwhich sported amid the sweets, excited her
beyond self-control. Stopping here and there to pluck a flower, she
would turn and cry, "Pardon, Monsieur;" until, at length, on an apple-
tree growing near the path she descried on a low branch a green apple, no
larger than her finger. This temptation proved irresistible, and with
one spring into the midst of the corn, she essayed to reach the prize, if
Providence would permit. Madame de Tecle, however, would not permit.
She seemed much displeased, and said, sharply:

"Marie, my child! In the midst of the corn! Are you crazy!"

The child returned promptly to the path, but unable to conquer her wish
for the apple, turned an imploring eye to Camors and said, softly:
"Pardon, Monsieur, but that apple would make my bouquet complete."