It was very green, and
peaceful and dewy. Horace stood still for a minute looking at
the flickering lights and shadows, and watching the dash and
current of the water.
"_Fi donc, Mademoiselle, tu n'es pas raisonnable_," cries a
sweet shrill little voice close to him, "_tu es vraiment
insupportable aujourd'hui_."
He turned round and saw a child between five and six years
old, dressed in a shabby little merino frock and white
pinafore, standing with her back towards him, and holding out
a doll at arm's length, its turned-out pink leather toes just
touching the ground.
"_Veux-tu bien etre sage?_" continues the small monitress with
much severity, "_encore une fois, un, deux, trois!_" and she
made a little dancing-step backwards; then with an air of
encouragement, "_Allons, mon amie, du courage!_ We must be
perfect in our steps for this evening, for you know, Sophie,
if you refuse to dance, M. le Prince will be in despair, and
M. le Baron will put his hand on his heart and cry, 'Alas,
mademoiselle, you have no pity, and my heart is desolated!' "
"Madelon!" cries a voice through the trees in the distance.
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