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 rather than a man," continued Leblanc. "What hands! what legs! And now he has been cleaned up a little, he is nothing to what he was! You ought to have seen him the day he arrived with his smock and his leather gaiters; it was enough to take away one's breath."

"Do you think so?" answered Edmée. "For my part, I preferred him in his poacher's garb. It suited his face and figure better."

"He looked like a bandit. You could not have looked at him properly, mademoiselle."

"Oh! yes, I did."

The tone in which she pronounced these words, "Yes, I did," made me shudder; and somehow I again felt upon my lips the impress of the kiss she had given me at Roche-Mauprat.

"It would not be so bad if his hair were dressed properly," continued the duenna; "but, so far, no one has been able to persuade him to have it powdered. Saint-Jean told me that just as he was about to put the powder puff to his head he got up in a rage and said, 'Anything you like except that confounded flour. I want to be able to move my head about without coughing and sneezing.' Heavens, what a savage!"

"Yet, in reality, he is quite right. If fashion did not sanction the absurdity, everybody would perceive that it is both ugly and inconvenient. Look and see if it is not more becoming to have long black hair like his?"

"Long hair like that? What a mane. It is enough to frighten one."

"Besides, boys do not have their hair powdered, and he is still a boy."

"A boy? My stars! what a brat! Boys? Why he