CHAPTER IX.



In the month of March, as the shadows of twilight gathered, two little
children were seated very close together upon a low footstool--two
little ones, between the ages of five and six, dressed in short trousers
with white pinafores over them, as was the fashion of the time. After
having played wildly they were now quietly amusing themselves with paper
and pencils. The dim light seemed to fill them with a vague fear, and it
troubled their spirits.

Of the two children only one was drawing--it was I. The other, a friend
invited over for the day, an exceptional thing, was watching me with
great attention. With some difficulty (trusting me meantime) he followed
the fantastic movements of my pencil whose intention I took care to
explain to him at some length. And my oral interpretation was necessary,
for I was busy executing two drawings that I entitled respectively, "The
Happy Duck" and "The Unhappy Duck."

The room in which we were seated must have been furnished about the year
1805, at the time of the marriage of my now-very-old grandmother, who
still occupied it, and who this evening was seated in the chair of the
Directory period; she was singing to herself and she took no notice of
us.

My memories of my grandmother are indistinct for her death occurred