"Ah, oui, M'sieur, oui, you indeed belong, as I do myself, to the ancienne noblesse."
The arrangement was quickly arrived at. The two ladies were interviewed by M'sieur le Comte, and both completely had their own way with him. Madame la Comtesse had a little talk with Margot, and on a certain Thursday the lessons so unique and perfect began.
Unique and perfect they were not, but they interested Margot, who listened with the colour rising to her cheeks and her velvety black-brown eyes fixed on the faces of her teachers. She still pursued her French in the town of Arles and talked it with M'selles de Close and de Blanc. She also read a little history, all in the French tongue, but occasionally her lovely eyes were fixed with a sort of dull amazement on the faces of these faded women, who no longer dressed to captivate their customers at the Cabinet de Beauté, showed their true age which was anything but young.
When the first week was over and the ladies had departed, little Margot skipped into her grandfather's room, flung herself on her knees by his side, and told him about les pauvres gouvernantes.
"Dost thou like them, my little one?" asked M. le Comte.
"No, grandpère," was the reply.
"Why dost thou say that? Thy words arrest and alarm me."
"They are only wooden dolls," said la petite Comtesse. "They have no thoughts. I do not think they can instruct me, for I—I wish not to be vain, but I know more than they do."
M. le Comte was much distressed at hearing this.
"I like thy teaching best, grandpère. Tell them to go and come back no more."