The young ladies burst out laughing, and mademoiselle, as gay as
any of them and a great deal shriller, joined in the merriment.
Never before had I contended with any sitter half as restless as
that wonderful old lady. No sooner had I begun than she jumped
out of the chair, and exclaiming, "_Grand Dieu!_ I have forgotten
to embrace my angels this morning," ran up to her pupils, raised
herself on tiptoe before them in quick succession, put the two
first fingers of each hand under their ears, kissed them lightly
on both cheeks, and was back again in the chair before an English
governess could have said, "Good-morning, my dears, I hope you
all slept well last night."
I began again. Up jumped mademoiselle for the second time, and
tripped across the room to a cheval-glass. "No!" I heard her say
to herself, "I have not discomposed my head in kissing my angels.
I may come back and pose for my picture."
Back she came. I worked from her for five minutes at the most.
"Stop!" cries mademoiselle, jumping up for the third time; "I
must see how this skillful artist is getting on. _Grand Dieu!_
why he has done nothing!"
For the fourth time I began, and for the fourth time the old lady
started out of her chair. "Now I must repose myself," said
mademoiselle, walking lightly from end to end of the room, and
humming a French air, by way of taking a rest.
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