I was visiting the royal family, as they sought me for a tutor for their sons over the summer. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. “We’re going to be found out someday. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet. I consider her a very charming young woman—and I won’t hear a word about Paris, for there are things I don’t understand about that, but I will stake my word upon it that to-day Miss Pellissier is entitled not only to our admiration, but to our respect. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady.
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