Madame was all goodness.

She tendered not even a remonstrance; she testified no shade of surprise.

With that consummate tact of hers, in which I believe she was never surpassed by living thing, she even professed merely to have issued forth to taste "la brise du soir." "Quelle belle nuit!" cried she, looking up at the stars--the moon was now gone down behind the broad tower of Jean Baptiste.

"Qu'il fait bon?
que l'air est frais!" And, instead of sending me in, she detained me to take a few turns with her down the principal alley.

When at last we both re-entered, she leaned affably on my shoulder by way of support in mounting the front-door steps; at parting, her cheek was presented to my lips, and "Bon soir, my bonne amie; dormez bien!" was her kindly adieu for the night.
I caught myself smiling as I lay awake and thoughtful on my couch--smiling at Madame.