The ladies remained some time longer at the breakfast table laughing at Marie's animated description of the people whom she saw on the Cascine on the day before, and at the theatre in the evening. She was most enthusiastic in her praise of Mrs. Penton and her brother's kindness, and asked naively if Englishmen—meaning natives of the United Kingdom—were generally as handsome and as charming as Mr. Barkley, adding that there were not any so nice at Mrs. Elton's ball.
"You think so, Mignonne, do you?" said Flora. "Well, I should say that, had he been at Mrs. Elton's, he would not have been unrivalled, or perhaps unsurpassed."
"But who den, Flore, was so seducing (séduisant) as he?"
"Oh! I should say this person; somebody else would say that person; it is all an affair of taste, you know," answered Flora, smiling at the question itself, and also at the very literal translation of séduisant, as she stood up and went to look out of the window. Marie jumped up and followed her, put her arm round her waist, and leaning her little curly head upon Flora's shoulder, she looked up coaxingly at her and said, "Flore, will you not tell your Mignonne who it is dat you have found better than Mr. Barkley chez Madame Elton?"
"What a little goose you are, Marie. I did not speak of any one in particular. I only said that he would not have been unrivalled. You know—as I also said—that it is all a matter of taste. Helena Elton, I dare say, would prefer Mr. Caulfield."
"Mr. Caulfield! But you are not of her advice, Flore?"
"Opinion you mean, Mignonne, and not advice, which is the English for conseil. For your satisfaction I am glad to be able to say that I do not agree with Helena; and as you are going again to enjoy this afternoon the society of the person who suits your taste best, I consider that you are a most enviable little being. But see, they are all gone,—we must go also."
Marie held up her fair face for a kiss, which was cordially given, and then they left the room.
The difference in their characters, as shown in their manner, was most striking. Marie was shy in the simple acceptation of the word, but she was not reserved. She knew nothing of Flora's bugbear—that dread of importuning or wearying others. As soon as Marie had got over the childish timidity which she always felt on a first acquaintance, she was demonstratively affectionate. It never crossed her simple little mind that her caresses might bore any one; so that whilst Flora would stand at a distance from those whom she liked, longing to be near them, yet afraid to go to them without a word or look which seemed to call her, Marie would at once run to her favourites, throw her arms round their necks, and tell them how much she loved them, without stopping to think whether they wanted her or not.