He paused to look at her.
“You must understand what this word ‘please’ means. Of course, I did not hope that you would fall in love with me on the spot.... No.... Thus, you ... you pleased me; that is to say, you inspired me with a deep sympathy.... I thought to myself: ‘Here is a worthy lady, one of strong intelligence, a wife such as I would like mine to be, a companion and a friend in whom I could confide, whose advice I could seek, without any fear of meeting with silliness or indifference....’ Well, let us suppose that you had thought likewise about it, that would have been enough.... We would have been married and I should be happy.”
Thérèse remained silent.
“But, there we are!” Boerzell went on, in a grumbling tone.... “You did not think this way.... I do not please you enough.... Or, to be more exact, I displease you too much.... Yet, allow me to say it without any fatuousness, I am surprised.... If I may judge from our two conversations, we would, intellectually speaking, hit it off very well.... Upon people, and upon things, we almost share the same opinions.... Our lives are cut along the same lines, and occupied with similar studies.... Our tastes and aptitudes agree.... There remains my physical appearance! It is obviously on this ground that you dislike me, and it is precisely such weakness of judgment which surprises me, coming from you.... Ah! if you were one of those little coquettes ... a brainless little woman, one of those worldly dolls....”
“But, monsieur!...” Thérèse protested smilingly.
Boerzell interrupted her, gradually more excited.
“If you please, mademoiselle, allow me to finish.... If, as I say, you were one of those fashionable women without culture, without nobility of character, and as choke-full of prejudices as a stuffed goose is with chestnuts, I would not be surprised.... I know well what my faults are, and all that I lack in order to attract a little woman of this class.... But you, a person of your quality, that you should look upon marriage as these others do, that marriage should be in your estimation a sudden stroke of lightning, a confused heart, an irresistible passion, a handsome man with a mustache and the whole clap-trap of romance, I assure you, I cannot get over it! And when I think that we very likely are made for each other, when I think that we met, by an extraordinary chance, that we could form an intelligent sensible, clear-sighted union, and that we are not doing it, see, that almost rouses me to anger!”
He struck the pavement with his umbrella.
“Are you through?” Thérèse asked anxiously.
“Yes, mademoiselle!” he replied distractedly.