rich brocade robe, and fabric of powdered hair were equally unsuitable
to ease or exertion, and consequently were seldom assumed till late in
the day, when the toilette was often made in public.

So Madame de Bourke's hair was simply rolled out of her way, and she
appeared in her true colours, as a little brisk, bonny woman, with no
actual beauty, but very expressive light gray eyes, furnished with
intensely long black lashes, and a sweet, mobile, lively countenance.

Estelle was trying to amuse little Jacques, and prevent him from
trotting between the boxes, putting all sorts of undesirable goods into
them; and Ulysse had collected his toys, and was pleading earnestly
that a headless wooden horse and a kite, twice as tall as himself, of
Lanty's manufacture, might go with them.

He was told that another cerf-volant should be made for him at the
journey's end; but was only partially consoled, and his mother was fain
to compound for a box of woolly lambs. Estelle winked away a tear when
her doll was rejected, a wooden, highly painted lady, bedizened in
brocade, and so dear to her soul that it was hard to be told that she
was too old for such toys, and that the Swedes would be shocked to see
the Ambassador's daughter embracing a doll. She had, however, to
preserve her character of a reasonable child, and tried to derive
consolation from the permission to bestow 'Mademoiselle' upon the
concierge's little sick daughter, who would be sure to cherish her
duly.

'But, oh mamma, I pray you to let me take my book!'

'Assuredly, my child. Let us see! What? Telemaque? Not "Prince