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I have no notion how she got there for I watched every stage in the operation, and selected my plate myself; but neither, on the other hand, does she bear the faintest resemblance to anybody I ever knew. Still M. Buguet is not my modest photographer. Elated by success so far, I called on the local gentleman who advertised in the Medium; but the local gentleman was "engaged."
Gabael RENEE D'ARVILLE The Angel Raphael LOUISE BUGUET Tobias's mother EULALIE LACROIX Tobias's sister VIRGINIE DEPAUL." I had been listening, although pretending not to, and I was stupefied, amazed, and furious. Mother St. Therese then added. "Here are your manuscripts, young ladies," and a manuscript of the little play was handed to each pupil chosen to take part in it.
After this the little green serge curtain was drawn, and I was surrounded, petted, and praised. Mother St. Sophie came up on to the platform and kissed me affectionately. As to Louise Buguet, she was now joyful again and her angelic face beamed. "Oh, how well you knew the part!" she said. "And then, too, every one can hear what you say. Oh, thank you so much!"
Louise Buguet was my favourite playmate, and I went up to her and asked her to let me see her manuscript, which I read over enthusiastically. "You'll make me rehearse, when I know my part, won't you?" she asked, and I answered, "Yes, certainly." "Oh, how frightened I shall be!" she said. She had been chosen for the angel, I suppose, because she was as pale and sweet as a moonbeam.
Alexis, the programme of the fete was communicated to us by Mother St. Sophie. The youngest of the nuns was to read a few words of welcome to Monseigneur. This was the delightful Sister Seraphine. After that Marie Buguet was to play a pianoforte solo by Henri Herz.
"Oh yes, you know it so well," said Louise Buguet, and she wanted to put her band on my head. "No, let me rehearse as I am, first," I answered. They began the second scene again, and I came in carrying a long branch of willow. "Fear nothing, Tobias," I commenced. "I will be your guide. I will remove from your path all thorns and stones. You are overwhelmed with fatigue.
I felt sure that M. Buguet did not know either my long-lost grandmother or lamented maiden aunt, so that any portraits I might get from him would be presumably genuine. I sat; and over my manly form, when the negative came to be cleaned, was a female figure in the act of benediction.
A short time since, however, M. Buguet, a celebrated French Spirit Photographer came from Paris to London, and received sitters for the modest sum of 30s. each. This would have been much beyond my means; but I suppose my wish had transpired, and that gentleman sent me an invitation to sit gratis, which, I need not say, I thankfully accepted.
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