"Poor M. de Macreuse! it must be very painful for him to find himself at a gay entertainment in which he can take so little pleasure, overwhelmed as he is by the despair his mother's death has caused him."
But her suspicions reasserting themselves, "Then why did he come?" she asked herself. "Very possibly he was impelled to do so solely by avaricious motives. Is it a shameful hope of securing my wealth that makes him forget his grief and his regret?"
M. de Macreuse having at last found a favourable opportunity for beginning a conversation with Ernestine, summoned up another blush, then said, in his most timid, unctuous, and ingratiating tones:
"Really, I must appear very awkward and ridiculous to you, mademoiselle."
"And why, monsieur?"
"I have not dared to address so much as a word to you since the beginning of the dance, mademoiselle, but—embarrassment—fear—"
"What! I frighten you, monsieur?"
"Alas! yes, mademoiselle."
"That is not a very gallant remark, monsieur."
"I make no pretentious to gallantry, mademoiselle," replied Macreuse, sadly, but proudly. "I am only sincere—and the fear you inspire in me is real, only too real."