Part 59 (1/2)
”I am afraid of incommoding you. I have someone with me.”
”Your German? There is a seat behind the carriage.”
”Very well, I accept, mademoiselle.”
”Ah! that is very kind of you!”
Once more Mademoiselle Derbin was in a charming humor. She arranged a drive for the day, intending to visit some points of view in the neighborhood of which someone had told her. We must be ready in an hour; she left us to attend to her toilette; we were to have no sitting for the portrait that day.
Caroline was a spoiled child; that was evident from her wilful manner, from her fits of impatience when her whims were not gratified; but she was so attractive, so fascinating when she chose to be agreeable, that it was really difficult to resist her. I believed that she had an affectionate, susceptible heart, a little inclined to enthusiasm perhaps. The interest that she manifested in me troubled me sometimes; I dreaded lest she should be in love with me. I dreaded it, because that love could not make her happy; but in the depths of my heart I should have been flattered, yes, enchanted; for our self-esteem is always more readily listened to than our reason.
To divert my mind from such ideas, I gazed at my daughter's portrait, I asked her pardon for not returning to her at once; but I knew that she was with Ernest and his wife, and I was certain that she was well and that they often talked to her about me.
The hour for our drive arrived and I joined Mademoiselle Derbin and her uncle. Caroline wore a lovely costume; her great dark eyes shone with a deeper light than usual; they expressed pleasure and satisfaction.
”Do you think that I look well in this dress, monsieur?” she asked.
”I think that you always look well, mademoiselle.”
”Is that true? Do you mean what you say?”
”To be sure I do. Besides, I am only the echo of the whole world.”
”I do not like to have you an echo; I don't ask you what other people say; that is entirely indifferent to me.”
We were just about starting when Caroline exclaimed:
”By the way, suppose I should invite Madame Blemont to go with us?”
”You know very well that she is ill, mademoiselle; she will refuse.”
”A drive cannot fail to do her good. I am going to ask her.”
”You are taking useless trouble, mademoiselle.”
”We will see about that, monsieur.”
She paid no heed to me and left us. But I was not alarmed; Eugenie certainly would not accept.
Monsieur Roquencourt came up to me and, pointing to his waistcoat, which was made of white silk, with colored flowers, and cut after the style of Louis XV, said to me:
”What do you think of this waistcoat?”
”It is very original.”
”I wore it in the part of Monsieur de Crac.”
”I can well imagine that it must be very effective on the stage.”
”All the ladies raved over it; but I played Monsieur de Crac very nicely too. In the first place, I talk Gascon as well as if I were a native of Toulouse, and Dugazon gave me a few lessons for that part. My first lines were admirable: