On rising from table I stayed among them and played cards instead of going out.

I saw them all off between eleven and twelve: I was charming, and if you only knew with whom; what physiognomies, what folk, what talk!" Another time the child, whispering in his ear, asks why her mother bade her not remind him that the morrow was the mother's fete-day.

The presence of the blithe all-hoping young, looking on with innocent unconscious eyes at the veiled tragedy of love turned to bitter discord, gives to such scenes their last touch of piteousness.

Diderot, however, observed the day, and presented a bouquet which was neither well or ill received.

At the birthday dinner the master of the house presided.