In the Days of My Youth: A Novel

by Amelia B. Edwards

"Enough--enough," he said, smiling good-naturedly. "You are right, and I will be as dumb as Plato. What is the lady's name."

"Dufresnoy," I answered, somewhat reluctantly. "Mademoiselle Dufresnoy."

"Ay, but her Christian name!"

"Her Christian name," I faltered, more reluctant still. "I--I--"

"Don't say you don't know," said Müller, maliciously. "It isn't worth while. After all, what does it matter? Here's to her health, all the same--à votre santé, Mademoiselle Dufresnoy! What! not drink her health, though I have filled your glass on purpose?"

There was no help for it, so I took the glass and drank the toast with the best grace I could.

"And now, tell me," continued my companion, drawing nearer to the fire and settling himself with a confidential air that was peculiarly provoking, "what is she like? Young or old? Dark or fair? Plain or pretty?"

"Old," said I, desperately. "Old and ugly. Fifty at the least. Squints horribly."

Then, thinking that I had been a little too emphatic, I added:--

"But a very ladylike person, and exceedingly well-informed,"