maturity. She is occupying my other room.'
"By means of an extra five sous a day, I obtained the privilege

of dining out in the court when the weather was fine.
"My cover was then placed in front of the door, and I commenced

to gnaw with hunger the lean members of the Normandy chicken, to
drink the clear cider, and to munch the hunk of white bread,

which, though four days old, was excellent.
"Suddenly, the woodenbarrier which opened on to the highway was

opened, and a strange person directed her steps toward the house.
She was very slender, very tall, enveloped in a Scotch shawl with

red borders. You would have believed that she had no arms, if you
had not seen a long hand appear just above the hips, holding a

white touristumbrella. The face of a mummy, surrounded with
sausage rolls of plaited gray hair, which bounded at every step

she took, made me think, I know not why, of a sour herring
adorned with curling papers. Lowering her eyes, she passed

quickly in front of me, and entered the house.
"This singularapparition made me curious. She undoubtedly was my

neighbor, the aged English lady of whom our hostess had spoken.
"I did not see her again that day. The next day, when I had begun

to paint at the end of that beautiful valley, which you know
extends as far as Etretat, lifting my eyes suddenly, I perceived

something singularly attired standing on the crest of the
declivity; it looked like a pole decked out with flags. It was

she. On seeing me, she suddenly disappeared. I re-entered the
house at midday for lunch, and took my seat at the common table,

so as to make the acquaintance of this old and original creature.
But she did not respond to my polite advances, was insensible

even to my little attentions. I poured water out for her with
great alacrity, I passed her the dishes with great eagerness. A

slight, almost imperceptible movement of the head, and an English
word, murmured so low that I did not understand it, were her

only acknowledgments.
"I ceased occupying myself with her, although she had disturbed

my thoughts. At the end of three days, I knew as much about her
as did Madame Lecacheur herself.

"She was called Miss Harriet. Seeking out a secluded village in
which to pass the summer, she had been attracted to Benouville,

some six months before, and did not seem disposed to quit it. She
never spoke at table, ate rapidly, reading all the while a small

book, treating of some Protestant propaganda. She gave a copy of
it to everybody. The cure himself had received no less than four

copies, at the hands of an urchin to whom she had paid two sous'
commission. She said sometimes to our hostess, abruptly, without

preparing herin the least for the declaration:
" 'I love the Saviour more than all; I worship him in all

creation; I adore him in all nature; I carry him always in my
heart.'

"And she would immediately present the old woman with one of her
brochures which were destined to convert the universe.

"In the village she was not liked. In fact, the schoolmaster had
declared that she was an atheist, and that a sort of reproach

attached to her. The cure, who had been consulted by Madame
Lecacheur, responded:

" 'She is a heretic, but God does not wish the death of the
sinner, and I believe her to be a person of pure morals.'

"These words, 'atheist,' 'heretic,' words which no one can
precisely define, threw doubts into some minds. It was asserted,

however, that this English-woman was rich, and that she had
passed her life in traveling through every country in the world,

because her family had thrown her off. Why had her family thrown
her off? Because of her natural impiety?

"She was, in fact, one of those people of exalted principles, one
of those opinionated puritans of whom England produces so many,

one of those good and insupportable old women who haunt the
tables d'hote of every hotel in Europe, who spoil Italy, poison

Switzerland, render the charming cities of the Mediterranean
uninhabitable, carry everywhere their fantastic manias, their

petrified vestal manners, their indescribable toilettes, and a
certain odor of india-rubber, which makes one believe that at

night they slip themselves into a case of that material. When I
meet one of these people in a hotel, I act like birds which see a

manikin in a field.
"This woman, however, appeared so singular that she did not

displease me.
"Madame Lecacheur, hostile by instinct to everything that was not

rustic, felt in her narrow soul a kind of hatred for the ecstatic
extravagances of the old girl. She had found a phrase by which to

describe her, I know not how, but a phrase assuredly
contemptuous, which had sprung to her lips, invented probably by

some confused and mysterious travail of soul. She said: 'That
woman is a demoniac.' This phrase, as uttered by that austere and

sentimental creature, seemed to me irresistibly comic. I, myself,
never called her now anything else but 'the demoniac.' feeling a

singular pleasure in pronouncing this word on seeing her.
"I would ask Mother Lecacheur: 'Well, what is our demoniac about

to-day?' To which my rustic friend would respond, with an air of
having been scandalized:

" 'What do you think, sir? She has picked up a toad which has had
its leg battered, and carried it to her room, and has put it in

her washstand, and dressed it up like a man. If that is not
profanation, I should like to know what is!'

"On another occasion, when walking along the Falaise, she had
bought a large fish which had just been caught, simply to throw

it back into the sea again. The sailor, from whom she had bought
it, though paid handsomely, was greatly provoked at this

act--more exasperated, indeed, than if she had put her hand into
his pocket and taken his money. For a whole month he could not

speak of the circumstance without getting into a fury and
denouncing it as an outrage. Oh yes! She was indeed a demoniac,

this Miss Harriet, and Mother Lecacheur must have had an
inspiration of genius in thus christening her.

"The stable-boy, who was called Sapeur, because he had served in
Africa in his youth, entertained other aversions. He said, with a

roguish air: 'She is an old hag who has lived her days.' If the
poor woman had but known!

"Little kind-hearted Celeste did not wait upon her willingly, but
I was never able to understand why. Probably her only reason was

that she was a stranger, of another race, of a different tongue,
and of another religion. She was in good truth a demoniac!

"She passed her time wandering about the country, adoring and
searching for God in nature. I found her one evening on her knees

in a cluster of bushes. Having discovered something red through
the leaves, I brushed aside the branches, and Miss Harriet at

once rose to her feet, confused at having been found thus,
looking at me with eyes as terrible as those of a wild cat

surprised in open day.
"Sometimes, when I was working among the rocks, I would suddenly

descry her on the banks of the Falaise standing like a semaphore
signal. She gazed passionately at the vast sea, glittering in the

sunlight, and the boundless sky empurpled with fire. Sometimes I
would distinguish her at the bottom of a valley, walking quickly,

with her elastic English step; and I would go toward her,
attracted by I know not what, simply to see her illuminated

visage, her dried-up features, which seemed to glow with an
ineffable, inward, and profound happiness.

"Often I would encounter her in the corner of a field sitting on
the grass, under the shadow of an apple-tree, with her little

Bible lying open on her knee, while she looked meditatively into
the distance.