“And treated like her also, I conclude?” said Lady Dorothea, with a sneering smile.
“Madame la Duchesse was ever most kind to me,” said the girl, half proudly.
“Kind—yes, of course—kind, if you conducted yourself properly and to her satisfaction. A person of her condition would be kind; but I trust this did not proceed so far as to spoil you? I hope it never made you forget your station?”
“I trust it did not, my Lady.”
“With what part of the establishment did you live? Where did you dine?”
“With the Princess, my Lady; except on fête days, when we were invited to the table of the Duchess.”
“I never heard of anything more absurd,—outrageously absurd. Why, are you aware, young woman, that these same friends of yours have done you irreparable mischief? They have, so to say, ruined your entire future; for how can I, and others in my station, avail myself of your services, with such habits and expectations as these?”
“Certainly not expectations, my Lady. I never did or can expect such condescension from another.”
“No matter; your head is filled with ideas unbefitting your condition, usages, habits, associations, all foreign to a menial station. You have been admitted to privileges the want of which would be felt as hardships. In fact, as I said before, they have done you irreparable injury. You must feel it yourself.”
A very faint smile, half in deprecation of the appeal, was the only reply of the young girl.