In spite of her sublime self-conceit, Corinne had to confess, at last, to herself that Odette was not paying her the least attention, and, tapping her gently on the shoulder, said:
"Odette! stop dreaming, and attend to me. I see you do not agree with me, and you are wrong."
"If it was your own opinion, my dear friend, I would accept it with pleasure; but why should I care for what Mme. Bricourt says? I know I am an atheist, a materialist, and spoiled by reading too much. People tell all sorts of stories about me. My father brought me up according to his ideas, and I thank him for it. You must take me as I am. Does my education disgrace me? I have learned by it the most thorough contempt for what is called religion. My ideas are shocking, I suppose, because I always tell the truth. I have read books that a young girl ought not to read, they say. They have educated me, so I am not a doll, like most young ladies. But I have disdainfully refused the hand of Amable Bricourt—that is my crime. His venerable mother (as he calls her) will never forgive me for having disappointed her admirable son (as she calls him)."
Corinne replied roguishly: "Ah! you prefer Paul Frager's company."
Odette shrugged her shoulders. "M. Frager is as little to me as the admirable son himself, or any of those who have proposed to me. I shall never marry, as I have already told you a hundred times. Only I believe he is unhappy; for some reason he does not live with his mother, and I know he grieves over it. Besides that, he talks well, is very intelligent and cultivated, and has one great advantage over everybody else—he never has made love to me."
"What! he never has made love to you?"
"Never, in any way."
"He has been completely devoted to you for the past year. Why, knowing you to be here, he has come to pass the Winter at Canet, not a mile away!"
Odette burst into a silvery laugh.