Virginie was dead--guillotined.' "When Flechier had told me thus much, he could not speak for sobbing; and I, myself, could hardly tell how to restrain my tears sufficiently, until I could go to my own room and be at liberty to give way.

He asked my leave to bring in his friend Le Febvre, who was walking in the square, awaiting a possible summons to tell his story.

I heard afterwards a good many details, which filled up the account, and made me feel--which brings me back to the point I started from--how unfit the lower orders are for being trusted indiscriminately with the dangerous powers of education.

I have made a long preamble, but now I am coming to the moral of my story." My lady was trying to shake off the emotion which she evidently felt in recurring to this sad history of Monsieur de Crequy's death.

She came behind me, and arranged my pillows, and then, seeing I had been crying--for, indeed, I was weak-spirited at the time, and a little served to unloose my tears--she stooped down, and kissed my forehead, and said "Poor child!" almost as if she thanked me for feeling that old grief of hers.
"Being once in France, it was no difficult thing for Clement to get into Paris.