“She struck me as very beautiful, Tiretta,” he said.
“Well, I am prejudiced,” answered the soldier drily. “I cannot admire unkindness.”
“That is to be the true child you are,” said Joseph. “Affection is the only beauty to a child’s perceptions. Besides, you are not very susceptible, I think, to feminine attractions. I have observed that in you.”
“O! have you?”
“Come, Tiretta man, cheer up. After all, the young lady’s vindication of her position was the commendable thing. One might have regarded her escapade otherwise in a less admiring light.”
“So the keeper, no doubt, counsels resignation to the poor wretch he has caught and mauled in a mantrap.”
Joseph laughed. He thought the comparison, in their relative positions, ridiculous. Of course he did. What importance had this dear fellow’s feelings in the context? The point was that he himself might have been misrepresented to the lady. Following that train of thought, he fell into a profound meditation, from which he did not rouse himself for several minutes. Then he stirred, like a man who had come to a conclusion which was to be immutable and final.
“I wish,” said he, “satisfaction on a point or two—as to whether, for instance, that escapade argued a characteristic lack of dignity on the lady’s part, or was due merely to a rare ebullition of high spirits, instigated possibly by opposition.”
“Yes,” said Tiretta.
“I wish, if properly assured on that question, to ascertain what is the lady’s real opinion of me, and if she was led in any way to associate my near presence with the episode.”