Mutual lack of comprehension began immediately. My first reading under Madame Raymond's direction was a volume of Guy de Maupassant's stories, with markers to show which could be read and which were forbidden. Next day Madame was horrified to see the markers gone and to learn that I had sat up late reading without censorship. She told me that a well-bred _jeune fille_ ought to be ashamed of reading certain things, and refused to argue about it when I asked her why a _jeune fille_ should be ashamed of reading the stories she had indicated to be skipped.
"To-day," said Madame Raymond, "I intend to take you to the Cluny Museum, and then we shall begin the Louvre."
"But," I protested, "I want to go first to Morgan Harjes."
"What for? Madame your mother gave me fifty francs this morning."
"She gave me a hundred and fifty. It isn't for money. I want my letters."
"If there are any letters for you, Madame your mother will give them to you if it is good for you to have them!" snapped Madame Raymond.
"Fiddlesticks! My mother doesn't read my letters."
"Letters written to a _jeune fille_ of sixteen years can easily wait. They are not important. Your education is. Anyway, who would write to you over here?"
"Well, there is Bill. I'm crazy to know if he passed his examinations for Yale and how he liked going to the dance at the Country Club with Margaret when he asked me first. Joe and Charlie went off on a fishing trip to Canada before I sailed, and I've been waiting a month to know if they caught anything. Then Harold. He's an older man. You can talk to him about serious things and his advice is pretty good. Naturally, it would be--Harold is a member of the bar and knows lots."
"But," said Madame, "you mean to say you write to men and men write to you?"
"Certainly. Just ask mother. Here, I know how to fix it. You seem to be in a hurry to go to the Museum. If it interests you, go right along. I'll take a cab to the bank and follow you later. Meet you at the Cluny in an hour."
"Alone!" cried Madame; "my conscience would not allow it. Your mother trusts me."
"To the Cluny Museum," said she, with finality.
In its setting, the Cluny Museum is one of the most delightful spots in Paris. On the Boulevard Saint-Michel and the Boulevard Saint-Germain one has the life of Paris of to-day. Looking out from the little park with its remains of Roman baths and archæological treasures of old Lutetia scattered around in the shrubbery, one sees a fascinating _carrefour_ of the Latin Quarter, noisy, bustling, ever-changing. It is a contrast more striking than any that Rome affords. On the other side, where one enters the Museum, you have the atmosphere of the middle ages, with the old well and the court yard and the fifteenth-century façade. Across the street, the great buildings of the Sorbonne and Collège de France seem to be carrying on the traditions of the past. But if you had to go inside with a governess who insisted on showing you everything in every room, you would rebel as I did.