"But I shall go on the stage."
"There is no necessity for that, is there?"
"Necessity! You mean that I have not to earn my bread. That may be true, but what would you have me to do? I am not content to be one of your English young ladies—to sit down, and learn to cook and darn, and read silly books, until fate is kind enough to send me a husband. Not so. I have ambition; I have an artist's instincts, although I may not yet be an artist. I must live; I must have light and colour in my life."
Paul was very grave. He did not understand this new phase in Adrea's development. There was a curious hardness in her tone and a recklessness in her speech which were strange to him. And with it all he felt very helpless. He could not play the part of guardian and reprove her; he scarcely knew how to argue with her. Women and their ways were strange to him; and, besides, Adrea was so different.
He stood up on the hearthrug, toying with his long riding-whip, puzzled and unhappy. Adrea was angry with him, he knew; and though he was very anxious to set himself right with her, he felt that he was treading on dangerous ground. He was neither sure of himself nor of her.
"I am afraid I am a very poor counsellor, Adrea," he said slowly; "but it seems to me that you want women friends. Your life has been too lonely, too devoid of feminine interests."
She laughed—a mirthless, unpleasant little laugh. "Women friends! Good! You say that I have none. It is true. There have been no women who have offered me their friendship in this country. You call yourself my guardian. Why do you not find me some?"
"You have made it very difficult," he reminded her.
She threw a scornful glance at him. "Good! That is generous. You mean to say that I have made myself unfit for the friendship of the women of your family. I thank you, Monsieur Paul. I think that our conversation has lasted long enough. Let me pass; I am going to leave you."
He moved quickly towards the door, and barred her passage. There was a dark flush in his cheeks and a gleam in his eyes. Up till then his manner had been a little deprecating, but at her last words it had suddenly changed. He felt that she was unjust, and he was indignant.