"And the daughter of this lady who was so fond of you, and whom you seem to have loved so much in return,—have you never felt any desire to make the acquaintance of this other Ernestine?"
"Yes, for everything her mother told me about her made me love her in advance, as it were, but at that time she was in a foreign land. When she returned to France, I did, for a time, have some hope of seeing and knowing her, but I was disappointed in that."
"How did that happen, my dear Herminie?" inquired Ernestine, concealing her curiosity, at least in part, however.
"Business took me to the house of her guardian, and while I was there something was said about my giving the young lady music lessons."
Ernestine gave a joyous start. This idea had never occurred to her before, but wishing to have something to justify her curiosity in Herminie's eyes, she exclaimed, laughingly:
"You must think it strange that I ask you so many questions about this young lady. Perhaps it is because I feel that I should be dreadfully jealous if you should ever love her better than you do me."
"Oh, you need have no fears on that score," said Herminie, shaking her head, sadly.
"But why should you not love her?" asked Mlle. de Beaumesnil, eagerly; then regretting her involuntary display of anxiety, she added: "But I am not selfish enough to wish to deprive this young lady of your affection, of course."
"What I know of her, and the recollection of her mother's great kindness to me, will always make me fond of her. But alas! my dear Ernestine, it is a matter of pride with me to shun any friendship that does not seem entirely disinterested, and this young lady is very wealthy and I am poor."
"You must have a poor opinion of her, then, after all," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, bitterly.