"Well, I studied French with the old time method more as we study Latin, and while my accent is vile, my verbs are all right. I am going to try to brace up in accent, and Molly and Judy are endeavoring to perfect themselves in grammar. But you have not met our friend Judy, Miss Julia Kean," said Mrs. Brown.

"No, I have not, but from all the complaints Henny Pace has made of her, I know she must be charming. When Henny gives a boarder a good character, I know without meeting her that she is some spineless old maid who is afraid to call her soul her own, or that she is a hypocrite like me who wants peace at any price. Now she tells me that Miss Kean is head-strong, self-willed, flippant, slangy, ill-bred, inconsiderate----"

"Oh, how could she tell such things?" interrupted Molly. "Why, Cousin Sally, Judy is splendid! She is independent and knows her own mind, and all of us are a little slangy, I am afraid; but she is very well-bred and Mother says the most considerate visitor she has ever had."

"Well, child, her report of your friend had no effect on me but to make me want to meet the young lady, so I can judge for myself. I want you and your mother to come and dine with us this evening at six-thirty and to bring Miss Kean with you. We will go to the opera to hear _Louise_.

It is wonderful and I know you will like it," and la Marquise d'Ochte smiled on her young Kentucky cousin and pressed her hand, pleased to see how she could speak up for her friend.

"We shall be delighted to come," said Mrs. Brown, "and I know Judy will appeal to you. She is a dear child and as free from affectation as you yourself. Now, Sally, tell me how we must go to work to find an apartment and where we should settle ourselves. We are far from affluent and want something inexpensive but, of course, respectable. Judy is to be with us; also a Miss Elise O'Brien, whose acquaintance we made on the steamer. You know so many persons, I wonder if you ever met her mother: she was a Miss Lizzie Peck, who married a young artist, George O'Brien, some twenty-five years ago here in Paris. At his death she married Mr.

Huntington."

"Know Lizzie Peck? I should say I did,--the outrageous piece! You see, before Jean succeeded to the estate and before I had my windfall from Aunt Sarah Carmichael, we lived in a very small way and our princ.i.p.al society was in Bohemia. At that time Lizzie Peck was the beauty of the Latin Quarter. She was supposed to be studying art, and indeed she was quite clever. But she was such a belle and so busy drawing young men to her, that she did not give much time to any other drawing. George O'Brien was much too good for her in every way. He was one of the wittiest men I ever knew and good nature itself. It is to be hoped that the daughter Elise inherited a disposition from him and not from the flirtatious Lizzie. Jean always insisted that there was an understanding between Tom Kinsella and Lizzie, but I hardly think a man as keen as Tom could ever have been taken in by the likes of Lizzie," and the marchioness got up preparatory to making her departure.

"Why, Mother, to think of Cousin Sally's knowing Mr. Kinsella, too! You liked him, didn't you, Cousin Sally?" asked Molly eagerly. "He was on our steamer and so kind to us."

"Yes, my dear, I liked him very much and should like to see him again, and so would my Jean. I fancy a great many persons are kind to my little cousin," and she pinched Molly's blushing cheek. "Now, Milly, don't worry for one moment about an apartment as I am almost sure I know of a place that will just suit you. It is a studio apartment on the Rue Brea, just across the Luxembourg Garden from here. It belongs to an American artist named Bent. He and his wife are going to Italy for the winter and would be delighted to rent it furnished, I am sure. It is very superior to many of the studios in the Latin Quarter as it has a bathroom. But I am not going to tell you any more about it until I find out if you can get it, what the price is, and just what sleeping accommodations it has.

I have my limousine at the door and shall go immediately to the Rue Brea, and to-night when you come to us for dinner I can tell you more.

_Au revoir_, then, my long lost cousin," and she kissed Mrs. Brown on both cheeks.

"That is the first Frenchy thing she has done yet," thought Molly; and then when the elevator had slowly descended out of hearing distance she remarked to her mother: "How could anyone live in a foreign country for almost thirty years and stay so exactly like 'home folks'? Cousin Sally's accent is much more southern than yours and mine. Did you notice her 'sure' was almost 'sho' and she spoke of Lizzie Peck's dra-a-win'

young men? I love her for keeping the same. And oh what fun to be going there to dinner! I can hardly wait for Judy to come home from the studio to tell her."

Mrs. Brown was equally pleased with her cousin's having remained so unaffected and looked forward with much pleasure to renewing the girlhood intimacy, and also to meeting the Marquis d'Ochte, of whom his wife spoke so enthusiastically as "my Jean," and the son Philippe. She had some misgivings about the son because the literature of the day does not paint a young Frenchman in particularly desirable colors as the companion of girls; but she hoped that the mother's innate good sense had served to bring up the boy in the proper way. Then Molly and Judy could meet him as they would any young man from their own country, and he would understand their easy freedom of manner and of speech, different, she well knew, from that of the unmarried French girl. She determined to say nothing to the girls of the difference, as she did not want them changed or embarra.s.sed by self-consciousness, and she felt sure of their having breeding and _savoir faire_ to carry them through any situation with flying colors.

As the marchioness had indicated, she had married before Jean had succeeded to the estates and indeed before he had any idea of being the heir presumptive. His uncle, the Marquis d'Ochte, was at the time a comparatively young man, a widower with a son of twelve; and everyone expected that he would marry again and perhaps have other sons. Jean d'Ochte, when she met him, was a rising young journalist, making, however, but a meager salary. His father was dead. His mother, Madame d'Ochte, was a very superior woman and recognized Sally Bolling's worth in spite of the fact that she had but a tiny dot to bestow at her marriage. She saw her son's infatuation for the American girl and gave her consent to the marriage, without which, as is the law in France, they could not have been wed. Sally's alliance gave her the _entree_ into the most exclusive homes of the Faubourg St. Germain but she was not a whit impressed by it. She took her honors so simply and naturally that she won the hearts of all her husband's connection and they ended by applauding the leniency of Madame d'Ochte in permitting the match, which they had formerly condemned as sentimental.

Jean and his wife spent their first married years living in the simplest style and Sally learned the economy for which the French are famous.

Then came the windfall of fifty thousand dollars from Aunt Sarah Carmichael, which reconciled the exclusive Faubourg more than ever to the match; and then the death of the little cousin of Jean's, making him his uncle's heir; and finally the death of the uncle, which gave Jean the t.i.tle of Marquis d'Ochte. It meant giving up his profession, to which he was much attached; but the estates had to be looked after and the dignity of the t.i.tle maintained; and now there was leisure for the reading and writing of plays, which had been his secret ambition.

Sally made a delightful marchioness. She had been accustomed to the best society in Kentucky and she declared good society was the same all over the world; as far as she could see the only way to get on was just to be yourself and not put on airs. She was very popular in the select circle to which the t.i.tle of Marquise d'Ochte admitted her but she did not confine herself to that circle; she knew all kinds and conditions of people, and never forgot a friend, no matter how humble.

Judy was very much excited at the prospect of dining with a live member of the old n.o.bility, but her excitement was nothing to that of Mrs.

Pace. That lady, when she received the message from Mrs. Brown telling her they would not be at home for dinner as they would dine out, immediately climbed to the seventh story to find out where they were to dine, and on being informed of their destination, she went off into transports of delight. Her ardor was somewhat dampened when it was divulged that Judy was to be one of the party.

"Sally is very good natured but entirely too democratic for her position as the wife of one of the very oldest of the n.o.bility in France. Of course she asked Miss Kean because of her friendship with your daughter," panted the irate dame, out of breath from her climb up two flights.

"I don't believe that was the only reason," said Molly, rather glad to give Mrs. Pace a dig after her report of her darling Judy. "Cousin Sally said she had been anxious to meet Miss Kean from what you had told her of my friend; so you are really responsible for the pleasure in store for her."

"Well, I only hope she appreciates the honor done her," spluttered Mrs.

Pace. "What are you going to wear? A dinner in the Faubourg and the Opera afterward calls for the very best in your wardrobe."

"Perhaps you had better advise us about our clothes," said Mrs. Brown sweetly, remembering what her cousin had said of Mrs. Pace's kind heart and how she humored her by seeming to let her boss her. "I have a very pretty black crepe de Chine. I think I am too old to go decollete, but I am sure this is suitable, especially as I have nothing else."

"It is perfectly suitable, and if you take my advice you will wear it and leave the neck exactly as it is with that lovely old lace finishing it off in a V. For pity sakes, don't tell Sally you are too old for low necks as she is about your age and wears decollete gowns on every occasion where one is warranted," said Mrs. Pace, much pleased at being taken into anyone's confidence on the subject of clothes or anything else.

Molly, taking her cue from her mother, then got out her dress and showed it to the eager landlady.

"It is lovely and just your color. Sally used to be given to that blue when she was young, but she says now she is too big and red to wear anything but brown or black. You must have a taxi to go in. I will attend to it for you. I hope Miss Kean will not do herself up in any fantastic, would-be artistic get-up, but will do you and your daughter credit, to say nothing of me, after I have got her this invitation," and Mrs. Pace bustled off, filled with importance.

Mrs. Brown and the girls, left alone at last, dressed themselves with the greatest care for the occasion, realizing what it meant to dine with the n.o.bility and then go to the far-famed Opera.

"Only think, the tomb of Napoleon, dinner with a marquis and the Opera, all in one day! I almost wish we had put off the tomb until to-morrow.

Our impressions are coming too fast," exclaimed Molly.

CHAPTER VII.

THE FAUBOURG.

At the toot of the horn, the porte cochere of the Hotel d'Ochte was thrown open by a venerable porter and the taxi containing Mrs. Brown and the girls swept into the court in great style. How beautiful it was! The soft color of the stone walls blended with the formal box bushes and tubs of oleanders; here and there a wrought-iron lantern projected from the pilasters; rows of snub-nosed caryatides held up little balconies, also of wrought iron, of the most delicate design and workmanship. Judy held her breath at the effect of line and color and wondered if she would ever know the inmates well enough to be allowed to make a picture of the court.

They were met in the hall by the most gracious and least formal of hostesses and taken immediately to her boudoir to remove their wraps.

"And this is Miss Julia Kean, the friend of my cousin, as the easy lessons in French put it. I am afraid I shall just have to call you Judy, my dear, and not start out trying to 'miss' you. And Molly in my own blue! Ah, child, for the first time in my life I tremble for the affections of my Jean! There is something about the combination of that particular blue with red hair that goes to his head. Milly, you are beautiful! How proud I am of my kin!" And the marchioness chattered on, leading them down a long, dim hall, hung with tapestries and armor, to the library.

"We live in our library. It is so much cosier than the great salon and we feel more at home in the smaller room; and here we can talk without having to shout across s.p.a.ce."

The door was opened at their approach by Philippe who bowed low as they entered and stood aside, while they were introduced to his father, the Marquis d'Ochte.

The marquis was a very interesting-looking man, tall for a Frenchman, with merry brown eyes and a black, closely cut, pointed beard. His hair was iron gray, thick and rather bushy. His manner was very cordial and all of the ladies were secretly relieved to find that he spoke English fluently, if with an accent.

Philippe was a handsomer man than his father, having that rare combination of coloring: dark eyes and golden hair. He wore a pointed beard, too, as is the almost invariable custom of Frenchmen; his eye was as merry as his father's and he had inherited his mother's strong chin, big honest mouth and perfect teeth. The d'Ochte family certainly made a wonderfully fine looking trio. The marchioness was radiant in black velvet and diamonds, her neck and arms beautiful and white, her abundant hair parted in the middle and done in a loose knot on her neck. She was a very distinguished looking woman and worthy to take her place with royalty as well as with the n.o.bility. Years had touched her but lightly; but the eternal youth in her heart, as in that of Mrs. Brown, was what gave her the charm of expression and manner.

Cordial relations were established immediately between old and young.

"There is nothing like a good American handshake to make strangers acquainted," said the host, looking admiringly at his wife's cousins and their attractive companion, Judy, who in spite of Mrs. Pace's fears that she might get herself up in "paint rags," was most artistically gowned in old-rose messaline. "It is more pleasure than I can express to meet the cousins of my Sara; also Mademoiselle Kean, of whom we have heard much from the respected Madame Pace," he added with a mischievous twinkle.

"Heavens, how must I behave if Mrs. Pace has already given me a character?" exclaimed Judy. "Must I be as she says I am, or must I be as she wants me to be?"

"Be yourself, and you will be as we want you," said the marchioness, kindly. "Jean and Philippe do not have the chance to meet many American girls and they do not, as a rule, care to meet Henny's boarders, who are usually dry-as-dust old maids, especially the ones Henny recommends."

"Oh, please don't change yourselves, any of you," begged Philippe in a voice and accent so southern that it was amusing coming from a veritable Frenchman. "All my life, I have longed to meet some of my cousins and to hear more of the Kentucky stories, and of Chatsworth and the Carmichael place. Does Cousin Sarah Carmichael, Mrs. Clay, I believe she is now, still take the biggest piece of cake, and are the beech trees as beautiful as they were when my mother used to play under them with you, Cousin Mildred?"

"Oh, Philippe, you should not tell tales out of school! Sarah is Milly's sister and she might not like the cake reminiscences. Sarah was mighty grabby, though, wasn't she, Milly? I am afraid she will never forgive me for getting the legacy from Aunt Sarah Carmichael. You see we were both named for her and Sarah naturally expected an equal division if not the 'biggest piece of cake,' and when the whole fifty thousand came to me, it was a sad blow to Sarah. But she was quite comfortable and Jean and I were the needy members of the family, as far as money went. That was all we did need as we had everything else," and the marchioness laid her hand lightly on her husband's bushy hair whence he gently drew it down to his cheek.

Mrs. Brown could not help smiling over Sister Clay and the big piece of cake. She remembered how the two Sarahs had always been at daggers drawn. Her sister was much older than Sally Bolling and had always been critical of the lively girl who had repaid her by laughing at her and cracking jokes at her expense.

"Yes indeed, Philippe, the beeches are even more beautiful having had some years since then to grow. Trees are one of the things that improve with age. I hope you will come to Kentucky and make us a long visit and see all of your kin and their homes," said Mrs. Brown cordially.

"That would be fine, if the mother and father could come, too. You don't know how beautiful your southern tongue sounds to me, Cousin Mildred.

You say 'kin' just as my mother does and as I do. I am laughed at by my English friends for my way of speaking their language, but I would not give up my southern accent for worlds."

Dinner was announced, interrupting Philippe, and they made their way to the _salle a manger_. The marquis gave his arm to Mrs. Brown; Judy fell to the share of the handsome young son; and the marchioness put her arm affectionately around Molly's waist.

"My dear," she said, "having you with us is a pleasure, indeed. I wish I had a daughter just like you. I think your mother might spare you to me.