A certain air of antiquity, the result of her association with her grandmother, added yet another charm to the young girl’s manner.  She had more sense, however, than her relative; and, as her education had not been neglected, she had imbibed pretty correct ideas of the world in which she lived.  This education, these practical ideas, Claire owed to her governess, upon whose shoulders the marchioness had thrown the entire responsibility of cultivating her mind.

This governess, Mademoiselle Schmidt, chosen at hazard, happened by the most fortunate chance to be both well informed and possessed of principle.  She was, what is often met with on the other side of the Rhine, a woman at once romantic and practical, of the tenderest sensibility and the severest virtue.  This good woman, while she carried her pupil into the land of sentimental phantasy and poetical imaginings, gave her at the same time the most practical instruction in matters relating to actual life.  She revealed to Claire all the peculiarities of thought and manner that rendered her grandmother so ridiculous, and taught her to avoid them, but without ceasing to respect them.

Every evening, on arriving at Madame d’Arlange’s, M. Daburon was sure to find Claire seated beside her grandmother, and it was for that that he called.  Whilst listening with an inattentive ear to the old lady’s rigmaroles and her interminable anecdotes of the emigration, he gazed upon Claire, as a fanatic upon his idol.  Often in his ecstasy he forgot where he was for the moment and became absolutely oblivious of the old lady’s presence, although her shrill voice was piercing the tympanum of his ear like a needle.  Then he would answer her at cross-purposes, committing the most singular blunders, which he labored afterwards to explain.  But he need not have taken the trouble.  Madame d’Arlange did not perceive her courtier’s absence of mind; her questions were of such a length, that she did not care about the answers.  Having a listener, she was satisfied, provided that from time to time he gave signs of life.

When obliged to sit down to play piquet, he cursed below his breath the game and its detestable inventor.  He paid no attention to his cards.  He made mistakes every moment, discarding what he should keep in and forgetting to cut.  The old lady was annoyed by these continual distractions, but she did scruple to profit by them.  She looked at the discard, changed the cards which did not suit her, while she audaciously scored points she never made, and pocketed the money thus won without shame or remorse.

M. Daburon’s timidity was extreme, and Claire was unsociable to excess, they therefore seldom spoke to each other.  During the entire winter, the magistrate did not directly address the young girl ten times; and, on these rare occasions, he had learned mechanically by heart the phrase he proposed to repeat to her, well knowing that, without this precaution, he would most likely be unable to finish what he had to say.