I am seven years old to-day.
One is not a man at seven; that I know.

But neither is one a child when he has my desires.

Our uncle, the Canon Lucien, tells me that Spartan boys were taken away from the women when they were seven years old, and trained by men.

I wish I were a Spartan.

There are too many here to say what I may and may not do,--Mamma Letitia, our uncle the canon, Papa Charles, Nurse Saveria, Nurse Camilla, to say nothing of my boy-uncle Fesch, my brother Joseph, and sister Eliza; Uncle Joey Fesch is but four years older than I, my brother Joseph is but a year older, and Eliza is a year younger! Even little Pauline has her word to put in against me.
Bah! why should they?
If now I were but the master at home, as I am here"-- "Well, hermit! and what if you were the master ?" cried Eliza from the lilac-bush.
The two girls had kept silence as long as they could; and now, to keep Panoria from speaking out, Eliza had interrupted with her question.
With that, they both ran into the grotto.
Napoleon was silent a moment, as if protesting against this invasion of his privacy.