“Edmée looked up in the stranger’s face with a half-puzzled, half-roguish expression, very pretty to see.
”‘All!’ exclaimed the young man, hastily; ‘excuse me, Madame—if the young lady could but be taken as she is now, it would be admirable.’
”‘All in disorder!’ exclaimed the countess, laughing. ‘Why I was just going to send her to have her hair brushed, and to have a clean white, frock put on; she is all tossed and tumbled.’
”‘All the better—nothing could be better,’ said the artist, for such he was, and the Count agreed with him. But it was not so easily done as said. Edmée could not at all see why she was to sit still on a stiff-backed chair when she so much preferred running about, and though she had jerked one dimpled shoulder out of the strap of her frock, she had by no means intended to keep it there, as the stranger insisted. Furthermore, she objected to looking up at him as he desired, and was on the point of telling him that he was not pretty enough to look at so much, when happily another idea struck her.
”‘Let Pierrot come in,’ she said; ‘Pierrot can come and tell me a story, and then I’ll sit still. Edmée always sits still when Pierrot tells her stories.’
”‘But how are we to get hold of him?’ said the Count, whose patience was rather tried by her fidgetiness. ‘There is not time to send to the village, the light will be failing’—for it was already advanced in the afternoon—‘and Mr Denis is so anxious to make the first sketch to-day.’
”‘Pierrot is not in the village; he is here at the door. Send for him and tell him to come in, and then Edmée will be so good—oh so good, and will sit so still!’
“The Countess rang a little bell which stood on a side table; an old man servant soon came to see what was wanted.
”‘Is Pierre Germain still here?’ she said; ‘if so, tell him to come in.’
“In a moment Pierre made his appearance. His boots were thick and clumsy, and clattered on the shining polished floor; he held his cap in both hands, and stayed an instant at the door to make his bow and to wait the lady’s pleasure. But, country boy though he was, he neither looked nor felt foolish or awkward, and the young artist, taking his eyes for a moment from his refractory little sitter, was struck by his bright face and fearless bearing.