"Have you seen your father to-day?"
"Yes; you gave me leave to go there when I——"
"Oh," said De Brévannes, interrupting Bertha, "I am not reproaching you! I do not like your father's temper, and I could not possibly live with him; but I do justice to his frankness of character, the austerity of his principles, and I am perfectly content when I know you are with him."
Bertha had nothing to reproach herself withal, and yet her heart smote her as if she had abused her husband's confidence, when, for the first time for a long while, he spoke kindly to her, and she looked down and made no reply.
De Brévannes proceeded,—
"Then these visits to your father are your only amusement since our return to Paris. With the exception of that first night at the Français, you have been nowhere; I really must draw you from your solitude."
"You are too kind, Charles. You know I do not like society, I have been so long accustomed to the life I lead; therefore, I pray you not to occupy yourself with what you call my amusements."
"Come, come, you are a child, and must let me think and decide for you in this matter: you will not repent it."
"But, Charles——"
"Oh, I shall be as obstinate as ever, and more so! for I mean it to be very agreeable to you in spite of yourself; when once you have got over your timidity, the world, which inspires you with so much alarm, will have a thousand attractions for you."