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Rh her to better purpose than prudence would have done or cleverness.

Old Simare was mad about her. Mme. Bottentuit told her all the secrets of her home life. Mme. Charmeron confided to her that she was broken-hearted at having nothing but daughters, but that she had not given up hope yet. Mlle. du Bocage hid her head on Gilberte's shoulder, wept and told her all her old-maidenly disappointments and regrets.

"You are the ornament of my salon, Gilberte," said Mme. de la Vaudraye.

She was not jealous of her. Gilberte, with her exquisite compassion, had guessed that the former lady of the Logis must still suffer from the ruin of her fortunes, must still feel how stunted and narrow was her life; and she showed her more attention than she did to any other.

Out of kindness to the mother she even tried to win the son's sympathies; but here she encountered a medley of such shyness