Yet her desire to see and hear the remarkable woman whose words were making so great an impression was very natural, and was destined at length to be gratified. One morning, while the family were seated at their eleven o'clock déjeûner, they were honoured by a visit from Stéphanie de Sartines. The little girl was intensely conscious of a new silk dress—green shot with pink, which shone and glistened with each of her quick, restless movements—and of a large Tuscan hat adorned with a wreath of blush roses. She exchanged greetings, in a highly satisfied tone, with every one in the room, and then, coming to the side of Clémence, began as usual, "Papa says he will allow me—"
The smile that passed round the group was not unnoticed by the observant Stéphanie. She looked up quickly, but resumed her little speech after a moment's hesitation. "Papa says he will allow me to go and hear Madame de Krudener preaching to the children, if you will be kind enough to accompany me, mademoiselle,—I mean Madame la Princesse; and if M. le Prince will permit you," she continued, bowing towards Ivan with the air of a little queen.
"If no one objects more than I do, Madame la Princesse is quite at your service, mademoiselle," answered Ivan, with a smile and a bow as ceremonious as her own.—"I am on duty to-day, as you are aware, m'amie," he added in a lower voice to Clémence.
"I thought the old lady kept her ghostly admonitions for those who needed them—hardened transgressors like M. de Talleyrand, for example," said Emile. "Does she lecture children too, for variety?"
"It appears she does. You ought to go and hear her, M. Emile," returned Stéphanie gravely. "It would do you good.—But really, madame," she added, addressing Clémence again, "you must come. It will be so—so delightful, so exciting, so amusing."
