“If I am to be frank, then, I don't admire her.”
“Not think her beautiful?”
“Yes; there is some beauty,—a good deal of beauty, if you like; but somehow it is not allied with that brightness that seems to accentuate beauty. She is tame and cold.”
“I think men generally accuse her of coquetry.”
“And there is coquetry, too; but of that character the French call minauderie, the weapon of a very small enchantress, I assure you.”
“You are, then, for the captivations that give no quarter?” said she, smiling.
“It is a glory to be so vanquished,” said he, heroically.
“My sister declared the other night, after Julia had sung that barcarolle, that you were fatally smitten.”
“And did you concur in the judgment?” asked he, tenderly.
“At first, perhaps I did; but when I came to know you a little better—”