But to return to my trip to Paris. I established my niece comfortably with her friends, and then betook myself to my own devices till such time as she should need me again. I had not been in Paris for eight years (one settles down so _amazingly_ in provincial England!) and I derived great pleasure from the old scenes of my honeymoon, that sad pleasure which is all that is left to women of my age, who have not their grandchildren to renew their youth in!
The Major and I had always been _particularly_ attached to the Gardens of the Luxembourg, and there I went and sat musing many hours on end. One morning as I sat watching the children and their _bonnes_, my ear was caught by a shrill scream and I turned and saw a very handsome young woman, beautifully dressed, dragging a cup and ball away from an angry little French boy. I supposed, of course, that she was his mother or his aunt, and only regretted that she should be so rough and undignified in her manner to him, but when his nurse rushed up and angrily questioned the young woman, who fought her off, still clinging to the toy, I realised that something was wrong, and went over to them. Hardly had I got there when a neat-looking lady's maid ran up, chid the young woman severely, and apologised in a rapid flood of French, that I could not follow, to the nurse. Then it was clear (or so I thought) that the poor creature was _not responsible_ and I tried to soothe her, in a quiet way, till her attendant should leave the _bonne_.
To make a long story short, imagine my surprise when I found that she was not insane at all, only strangely undeveloped. Her maid explained this to me while the curious young thing (a _bride_, too!) actually made friends with the child and begged the cup and ball away successfully!
She took quite a fancy to me and we talked together in English, as soon as I found out that she was an American. What an _extraordinary_ nation! It quite makes one giddy to think of them. Fancy a child that had never been taught of the God who made her nor the Saviour who died for her, in a civilised _Christian_ country! And yet she was naturally very sweet, I found, though high-tempered. She spoke beautiful French (they tell me Americans often do) but she seemed to know very little about her native country and had never seen a red Indian nor a buffalo. The Major always regretted so _deeply_ that he had never hunted in North America.