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In spite of his feeling of pride and, as it were, of the return

of youth, with his favorite daughter on his arm, he felt awkward,

and almost ashamed of his vigorous step and his sturdy, stout

limbs. He felt almost like a man not dressed in a crowd.

"Present me to your new friends," he said to his daughter,

squeezing her hand with his elbow. "I like even your horrid Soden

for making you so well again. Only it's melancholy, very

melancholy here. Who's that?"

Kitty mentioned the names of all the people they met, with some

of whom she was acquainted and some not. At the entrance of the

garden they met the blind lady, Madame Berthe, with her guide,

and the prince was delighted to see the old Frenchwoman's face

light up when she heard Kitty's voice. She at once began talking

to him with French exaggerated politeness, applauding him for

having such a delightful daughter, extolling Kitty to the skies

before her face, and calling her a treasure, a pearl, and a

consoling angel.