in the morning when the sun was shining, and again at night when the
radiant lights along the river's bank glittered like jewels in a long
necklace. She had her little walk through the Gardens of the Tuileries
every morning after crossing the Pont Royal, but she did not return
through the gardens in the evening, for a park in the morning is a
different thing to a park at night. On her return she always walked
along the Rue de Tuileries until she came to the bridge. Her morning
ramble through the gardens was a daily delight to her, for the Rue de
Lille is narrow, and not particularly bright, so it was pleasant to
walk beneath the green trees, to feel the crisp gravel under her feet,
and to see the gleaming white statues in the sunlight, with the sparkle
on the round fountain pond, by the side of which she sometimes sat. Her
favorite statue was one of a woman that stood on a pedestal near the
Rue de Rivoli. The arm was thrown over her head, and there was a smile
on the marble face which was inscrutable. It fascinated the girl as she
looked up to it, and seemed to be the morning greeting to her busy
day's work in the city. If no one was in sight, which was often the
case at eight o'clock in the morning, the girl kissed the tips of her
fingers, and tossed the salute airily up to the statue, and the woman
of stone always smiled back at her the strange mystical smile which
seemed to indicate that it knew much more of this world and its ways
than did the little Parisienne who daily gazed up at her.

Lurine was happy, as a matter of course, for was not Paris always
beautiful? Did not the sun shine brightly? And was not the air always
clear? What more, then, could a young girl wish? There was one thing
which was perhaps lacking, but that at last was supplied; and then
there was not a happier girl in all Paris than Lurine. She almost cried
it aloud to her favorite statue the next morning, for it seemed to her
that the smile had broadened since she had passed it the morning