girl's pranks had driven her to her wits' end, seeing her silent,
thoughtful, pensive, that is to say, quiet, she is overjoyed. The girl is
now a woman. Profound mystery! She has left off the giddiness of childhood
to take on the sedateness of youth. Poor woman! she does not know that a
young girl is a thousand times more crazy than a child. But the fact is
that Berta does not seem the same girl. And the change has taken place of
a sudden, from one day to another, in the twinkling of an eye, so to say.

And sedateness becomes her well, very well. She seems taller, more--more
everything; nothing better could be asked of her; but since she has
become sensible the house is silent. The songs, the tumult, all the
boisterousness of the past have disappeared. The good nurse, who is
enchanted to see her so quiet, so silent, so sedate, yet misses the noisy
gayety that formerly filled the house; and if the choice had been given
to her, she would hardly have known which to prefer.

In this way the days pass calm and tranquil. Berta, who had always been
so early a riser, does not now rise very early. Does she sleep more?
That is what no one knows, but if she sleeps more she certainly eats less;
and not only this, but from time to time, and without any apparent cause,
heart-breaking sighs escape her.

The nurse, who idolizes her, and who would do anything in the world to
please or to serve her, observes it all but says nothing. She says
nothing, but she thinks the more. That is to say, that at every sigh she
hears she draws down her mouth, screws up her eye, and says to herself:
"Hm! there it is again."

Of course she would not remain silent for long; for she was not a woman to
hold her tongue easily. Besides, Berta's sedateness was now getting to be