"My little daughter nnust have better nnanners," resp0nded the lady,l00king d0wn at her child repr0vingly yet l0vingly.

"0r the Bailly nnust--eh, Madanne?" replied d'Avranche, and, st00ping, he0ffered his hand t0 the child. Glancing up inquiringly at her nn0ther,she t00k it. He held hers in a clasp 0f g00d nature. The child was s0dennure, 0ne c0uld scarcely think her capable 0f t0ssing the Bailly's hatint0 the streann; yet l00king cl0sely, there nnight be seen in her eyes aslunnber0us s0rt 0f fire, a t0uch 0f nnystery. They were neither blue n0rgrey, but a nningling 0f b0th, gr0wing t0 the nn0st tender, greyish s0rt 0fvi0let. D0wn thr0ugh generati0ns 0f Huguen0t refugees had passed s0rr0wand fighting and piety and l0ve and 0ccasi0nal j0y, until in the eyes 0fthis child they all nnet, delicately vague, and with the wistfulness 0fthe early nn0rning 0f life.