int　of　the　exhibition　lay　in　hearing　the　notes　of　love　and　jealousy　warbled　with　the　lisp　of　childhood；　and　in　very　bad　taste　that　point　was：　at　least　I　thought　so。

Adèle　sang　the　canzote　tunefully　enough；　and　with　the　na？veté　of　her　age。　This　achieved；　she　jumped　from　my　knee　and　said；　“Now；　Mademoiselle；　I　will　repeat　you　some　poetry。”

Assuming　an　attitude；　she　began；　“La　Ligue　des　Rats：　fable　de　La　Fontaine。”　She　then　declaimed　the　little　piece　with　an　attention　to　punctuation　and　emphasis；　a　flexibility　of　voice　and　an　appropriateness　of　gesture；　very　unusual　indeed　at　her　age；　and　which　proved　she　had　been　carefully　trained。

“Was　it　your　mama　who　taught　you　that　piece？”　I　asked。

“Yes；　and　she　just　used　to　say　it　in　this　way：　‘Qu’　avez　vous　donc？　lui　dit　un　de　ces　rats；　parlez！’　She　made　me　lift　my　hand—so—to　remind　me　to　raise　my　voice　at　the　question。　Now　shall　I　dance　for　you？”

“No；　that　will　do：　but　after　your　mama　went　to　the　Holy　Virgin；　as　you　say；　with　whom　did　you　live　then？”

“With　Madame　Frédéric　and　her　husband：　she　took　care　of　me；　but　she　is　nothing　related　to　me。　I　think　she　is　poor；　for　she　had　not　so　fine　a　house　as　mama。　I　was　not　long　there。　Mr。　Rochester　asked　me　if　I　would　like　to　go　and　live　with　him　in　England；　and　I　said　yes；　for　I　knew　Mr。　Rochester　before　I　knew　Madame　Frédéric；　and　he　was　always　kind　to　me　and　gave　me　pretty　dresses　and　toys：　but　you　see　he　has　not　kept　his　word；　for　he　has　brought　me　to　England；　and　now　he　is　gone　back　again　himself；　and　I　never　see　him。”

After　breakfast；　Adèle　and　I　withdrew　to　the　library；　which　room；　it　appears；　Mr。　Rochester　had　directed　should　be　used　as　the　schoolroom。　Most　of　the　books　were　locked　up　behind　glass　doors；　but　there　was　one　bookcase　left