produce, before a light footstep and a silvery voice announced the entrance of Marie herself.
A gleam of the yellow sunlight which bathed the street in front, would not more suddenly or cheerfully have illumined the room. The sweet songsters who occupied the cage above her mother's head enriched the air with no mellower or clearer notes; no foot in Monsieur Maillefert's dancing-school was lighter, no figure more graceful, no eyes brighter, no face more beautiful. Light auburn hair, clear, dark-blue eyes, a nose of Grecian truth, and a mouth combining all the attractions of pearl and ruby; a throat as full, and neck as flexible as the dream of a sculptor; shoulders white and round, with a bust as faultless as the statue of the "Slave," completed the beauty of a face and form as perfect as ever wore the youthful graces of sweet seventeen.
She was arrayed in a loose though neatly-fitting morning-dress of cross-barred muslin, white as the lily. This was confined at the waist by a silken cord of pale pink hue; around her neck was tied a narrow velvet ribbon, of the same becoming color; and her hair was simply dressed in the fashion of the time, with a band and flowers.
Her appearance was the signal for the recommencement of the little Monsieur's universal salutations, elaborate and profound, as if given to a whole ball-room, marshaled for the dance; and in his twinkling black eye there was a ray of light which showed that age, though now approaching his fiftieth year, had not deprived him of the Frenchman's greatest pleasure—admiration of female beauty.
"Souhaits le bon jour, Ma'm'selle!" he exclaimed with all the artist's grace, as she came to the window, and received his salutation with a smile which would have revived one of his nation, though he were in the article of death.
"Monsieur Maillefert has called to inquire whether you will attend his fête this evening, Marie," said her mother, "and I have placed you under his protection."
"I am sure no better chaperon could be chosen," said Marie, smiling in reply to the repeated bows of her whimsical protector; "but how is my father this morning?"
"He is sleeping," her mother answered, glancing at the door at
