Another letter, written about this time, should be quoted; the spelling and method of expression are almost as eccentric:—
My Dear Mother,
Forgive me for not having sent a letter sooner, but, as my sister is older than me, I thought it better for her to tell you all the news. I will only tell you that everyone is still satisfied with me, and continues to love me, especially Mademoiselle Alexandrine. I am always called Pierrot (Sparrow), and I must say I deserve it, for I am as giddy as a real Pierrot. I am working to deserve the kisses you will give me when you come. Be sure you execute the commission I give you, and that is to embrace thirty millions of times my dear papa, the little girl that loses her shoes, and my little Rosalie.
Your obedient and submissive daughter,
Pierrot Élisabeth Félix.Élisa, as she was still called, often annoyed her master by her gipsy-like love of wandering. She called her brother Raphaël "the Wandering Jew," but she had a great deal of the same restlessness even in those early years. Caged in the class-room, she was like the sparrow whose name they had given her, and whenever she could she escaped to the neighbouring Bois de Boulogne, to sit for hours in the sunshine, singing and gathering flowers. One day, we are told, Choron, while walking through the woods, heard voices singing the hymns he taught. He was astonished; he never had succeeded in inducing his pupils to perform so well in school. Approaching nearer, what was his amusement to see the little Rachel, standing in the midst of a circle, filling his position as conductor, armed with a stick with which she beat time with the greatest solemnity and energy.
The following is a letter of excuse, written on one of these occasions. For the sake of the archness and
