in the world,--and now that it's in the blood of every body--"

But further sapient discourse on the part of Henri was summarily put
an end to by his mother's ordering him to kneel down and say his
prayers, and afterwards bundling him into bed,--where, being sleepy,
he speedily forgot all that he had been trying to talk about.
Babette took more time in retiring to rest. She had very pretty,
curly, brown hair, and Madame Patoux took a pride in brushing and
plaiting it neatly.

"I may be like Diane de Poitiers after all," she remarked, peering
at herself in the small mirror when her thick locks were smoothed
and tied back for the night--"Why should I not be?"

"Because Diane de Poitiers was a wicked woman," said Madame Patoux
energetically,--"and thou must learn to be a good girl."

"But if Diane de Poitiers was bad, why do they talk so much about
her even now, and put her in all the histories, and show her house,
and say she was beautiful?" went on Babette.

"Because people are foolish," said Madame, getting impatient--
"Foolish people run after bad women, and bad women run after foolish
people. Now say thy prayers."

Obediently Babette knelt down, shut her eyes close, clasped her
hands hard, and murmured the usual evening formula, heaving a small
sigh after her "act of contrition," and looking almost saintly as
she commended herself to her "angel guardian." Then her mother
kissed her, saying--