“Now you are not attending.”
“I am, indeed I am. Let me see; where were wet. Your father never permitted waste. No. I can imagine Monsieur Bourget rather a severe taskmaster.”
“But it was exceedingly useful, and I was glad of it when I knew we were to marry, for I said to myself that if I were not a grand lady, at least I should know how to help you. No, no, Léon, listen! I can keep accounts—only try me, you will not find me ten sous out by the end of the month. And,”—she hesitated slightly—“if she would allow it, I am certain I could spare Madame de Beaudrillart a great deal of trouble. May I ask her?”
“Ask what you like and who you like, so long as you remember that you belong first of all to me,” he said, gaily.
“I hope that they will grow to endure me in time,” she went on. “Of course, I mustn’t be unreasonable and expect everything to come all at once, but—by-and-by. Do you know that it is your sister, Mademoiselle Félicie—”
“Good heavens, Nathalie, don’t call her mademoiselle, as if you were her maid!”
She corrected herself shyly. “Félicie, then. It is Félicie whom I dread the most.”
“I should have fancied that Claire might have been especially alarming.”
“Yes, only I understand her. It is what I expected. But Mad—Félicie is so good and so devout, no nun could be more so, always working for the Church, and she seemed so shocked when I said my father thought ladies—religious ladies, you know—often made the poor pay towards things which they did not understand.”
“Did you actually tell Félicie that!”