me laugh with his clever stories and comic grimaces.

My father was as "handsome as a god," and I used to look at him with
pride. I did not know him well, as I saw him so rarely, but I loved him
for his seductive voice and his slow, gentle gestures. He commanded a
certain respect, and I noticed that even my exuberant aunt calmed down
in his presence.

I had recovered, and Dr. Monod, who was attending me, said that I could
now be moved without any fear of ill effects.

We had been waiting for my mother, but she was ill at Haarlem. My aunt
offered to accompany us if my father would take me to the convent, but
he refused, and I can hear him now with his gentle voice saying:

"No; her mother will take her to the convent. I have written to the
Faures, and the child is to stay there a fortnight."

My aunt was about to protest, but my father replied:

"It's quieter there, my dear Rosine, and the child needs tranquillity
more than anything else."

I went that very evening to my aunt Faure's. I did not care much for
her, as she was cold and affected, but I adored my uncle. He was so
gentle and so calm, and there was an infinite charm in his smile. His
son was as turbulent as I was myself, adventurous and rather
hare-brained, so that we always liked being together. His sister, an
adorable, Greuze-like girl, was reserved, and always afraid of soiling
her frocks and even her pinafores. The poor child married Baron Cerise,