the agreeable sensation of considering herself one. Public admiration
was a great help to her, after she had passed through that crisis in her
grief during which she could feel nothing but the horror of knowing she
should never see her father again, when she had ceased to weep for him
incessantly, to pray for him, and to turn, like a wounded lioness, on
those who blamed his reckless conduct, though she herself had been its
chief victim.

For three months she hardly left the convent, walking only in the grounds
and gardens, which were of considerable extent. From time to time
Giselle came for her and took her to drive in the Bois at that hour of
the day when few people were there.

Enguerrand, who, thanks to his mother's care, was beginning to be an
intelligent and interesting child, though he was still painfully like
M. de Talbrun, was always with them in the coupe, kindhearted Giselle
thinking that nothing could be so likely to assuage grief as the prattle
of a child. She was astonished--she was touched to the heart, by what
she called naively the conversion of Jacqueline. It was true that the
young girl had no longer any whims or caprices. All the nuns seemed to
her amiable, her lodging was all she needed, her food was excellent; her
lessons gave her amusement. Possibly the excitement of the entire
change had much to do at first with this philosophy, and in fact at the
end of six months Jacqueline owned that she was growing tired of dining
at the table d'hote.

There was a little knot of crooked old ladies who were righteous
overmuch, and several sour old maids whose only occupation seemed to be
to make remarks on any person who had anything different in dress,
manners, or appearance from what they considered the type of the