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The dear, good lady did not see much in it, for the whole story appeared to her of childlike simplicity, and when I said the lines, "He has taken from me, he has taken from me the ribbon you gave me," she smiled in all confidence when Meydieu and my godfather laughed heartily. Finally the examination day arrived. Every one had given me advice, but no one any real helpful counsel.

I did not laugh any more, though, for this reminded me of how my own hair had been uncurled, and it was thanks to that I had not won the first prize for tragedy. On reaching home we found my mother, my aunt, my godfather, our old friend Meydieu, Madame Guerard's husband, and my sister Jeanne with her hair all curled.

I did not say anything about my plans to our dear invalid, but I asked our old friend Meydieu to find me a flat. The old man, who had tormented me so much during my childhood, had been most kind to me ever since my debut at the Theatre Francais, and, in spite of my row with Nathalie, and my escapade when at the Gymnase, he was now ready to see the best in me.

She was tall and slender as a lath, very compliant and demure. She lived in the flat above, and had come down without a hat; she was wearing an indoor gown of indienne with a design of little brown leaves. M. Meydieu muttered something, I did not catch what. The abominable notary made a very curt bow to Madame Guerard. The Duc de Morny was very gracious, for the new-comer was so pretty.

My uncle, Felix Faure, was gazing at the floor in an absent-minded way; the notary had a spiteful look in his eyes, my aunt was holding forth in a very excited manner, and M. Meydieu kept shaking his head and muttering, "Perhaps yes who knows? hum hum!" Madame Guerard was very pale and sad, and she looked at me with infinite tenderness. What could this Conservatoire be?

I opened them, but, as I did not understand them at all, I quickly closed them again, and read my little Lafontaine, which I loved passionately. I knew all his fables, and one of my delights was to make a bet with my godfather or with M. Meydieu, our learned and tiresome friend.

The hideous notary had risen. My uncle had drawn me near to him. My godfather Regis seemed to be the exact counterpart of M. Meydieu. They both of them had the same bourgeois mind, and were equally stubborn and obstinate. They were both devoted to whist and good wine, and they both agreed that I was thin enough for a scarecrow.

I was isolated for a week before my baptism and for a week afterwards, as I was to be confirmed one week after the event. My mother, Aunt Rosine Berendt and Aunt Henriette Faure, my godfather Regis, Monsieur Meydieu, Jeanne's godfather, and General Polhes, Regina's godfather, the godmothers of my two sisters and my various cousins, all came, and revolutionised the convent.

"Well, as we have come here on account of this child," said my godfather, looking at his watch, "we must begin and discuss what is to be done with her." They each took my hand by way of encouraging me. "Yes," continued M. Meydieu, with a laugh; "it appears you want to be a nun." "Ah, indeed," said the Duc de Morny to Aunt Rosine. "Sh!" she retorted, with a laugh.

You are thin and small, your face is pretty enough when near, but ugly in the distance, and your voice does not carry!" "Yes, my dear girl," put in M. Meydieu, "your godfather is right. You had better marry the miller who proposed, or that imbecile of a Spanish tanner who lost his brainless head for the sake of your pretty eyes. You will never do anything on the stage! You'd better marry."