everywhere—­but chiefly at St. Phillipe de Roule—­for several months without being aware that she is our neighbor, that her hotel adjoins ours.  Such is Paris!

“She is a graceful person, with a soft and tender, but decided air.  We sat near each other at church; we gave each other side-glances; we pushed our chairs to let each other pass; and in our softest voices would say, ‘Excuse me, Madame!’ ‘Oh, Madame!’ My glove would fall, she would pick it up; I would offer her the holy water, and receive a sweet smile, with ‘Dear Madame!’ Once at a concert at the Tuileries we observed each other at a distance, and smiled recognition; when any part of the music pleased us particularly we glanced smilingly at each other.  Judge of my surprise next morning when I saw my affinity enter the little Italian house next ours—­and enter it, too, as if it were her home.  On inquiry I found she was Madame Jaubert, the wife of a tall, fair young man who is a civil engineer.

   “I was seized with a desire to call upon my neighbor.  I spoke of it
   to Louis, blushing slightly, for I remembered he did not approve of
   intimacies between women.  But above all, he loves me!

   “Notwithstanding he slightly shrugged his shoulders—­’Permit me at
   least, Miss Mary, to make some inquiries about these people.’

   “A few days afterward he had made them, for he said:  ’Miss Mary, you
   may visit Madame Jaubert; she is a perfectly proper person.’

   “I first flew to my husband’s neck, and thence went to call upon
   Madame Jaubert.

   “‘It is I, Madame!’

   “‘Oh, Madame, permit me!’

   “And we embraced each other and were good friends immediately.

“Her husband is a civil engineer, as I have said.  He was once occupied with great inventions and with great industrial works; but that was only for a short time.  Having inherited a large estate, he abandoned his studies and did nothing—­at least nothing but mischief.  When he married to increase his fortune, his pretty little wife had a sad surprise.  He was never seen at home; always at the club—­always behind the scenes at the opera—­always going to the devil!  He gambled, he had mistresses and shameful affairs.  But worse than all, he drank—­he came to his wife drunk.  One incident, which my pen almost refuses to write, will give you an idea.  Think of it!  He conceived the idea of sleeping in his boots!  There, my mother, is the pretty fellow my sweet little friend transformed, little by little, into a decent man, a man of merit, and an excellent husband!

   “And she did it all by gentleness, firmness, and sagacity.  Now is
   not this encouraging?—­for, God knows, my task is less difficult.