of its fringes, as in a conjuring book, what sort of answer she ought
to make; then said,

"Mademoiselle Alexandre has a penance to perform, and a class-lesson
to give; but I should be very sorry to let you put yourself to the
trouble of coming here all to no purpose. I am going to send for her.
Only first allow me, Monsieur--as is our custom--to put your name on
the visitors' register."

She sat down at the table, opened a large copybook, and, taking out
Maitre Mouche's letter again from under her pelerine, where she had
placed it, looked at it, and began to write.

"'Bonnard'--with a 'd,' is it not?" she asked. "Excuse me for being
so particular; but my opinion is that proper names have an
orthography. We have dictation-lessons in proper names, Monsieur,
at this school--historical proper names, of course!"

After I had written down my name in a running hand, she inquired
whether she should not put down after it my profession, title,
quality--such as "retired merchant," "employe," "independent
gentleman," or something else. There was a column in her register
expressly for that purpose.

"My goodness, Madame!" I said, "if you must absolutely fill that
column of yours, put down 'Member of the Institute.'"

It was still Mademoiselle Prefere's pelerine I saw before me; but
it was not Mademoiselle Prefere who wore it; it was a totally
different person, obliging, gracious, caressing, radiant, happy. Her eyes,