"A lady to whom I was deeply attached had a daughter who was also named Ernestine."
"You see how many reasons there are that we should love each other, Herminie," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil; "and as we are friends now, I am going to ask you all sorts of impertinent questions."
"Proceed, then!" said Herminie, smiling.
"Well, in the first place, what do you do for a living? What is your profession, Herminie?"
"I give lessons on the piano and in singing."
"How lucky your pupils are! How kind you must be to them!"
"No, indeed, I am very severe," replied the duchess, gaily. "And you, Ernestine, what do you do?"
"I—I do embroidery and tapestry work," Mlle. de Beaumesnil answered, somewhat embarrassed.
"And do you have plenty of work, my dear child?" asked Herminie, with almost maternal solicitude; "work of that kind is usually so very scarce at this season of the year."
"I came from the country only a short time ago to join my relative here," replied poor Ernestine, more and more confused; then gathering a certain amount of courage from the very exigency of the situation, she added: "So you see, Herminie, that I have never lacked work yet."