"I fear nothing at all."
"And will not this solitude of the heart make you sad or sullen?"
"I do not foresee it in any way. I am naturally cheerful, and I have preserved my command over myself in the midst of the most cruel tests. I have no dream of love in my head; I am not romantic. If I ever change I shall be very much astonished. That, Madame, is all I can tell you about myself. Will you take me such as I represent myself with confidence, since I can after all but give myself out for what I know myself to be?"
"Yes, I take you for what you are,—an excellent young woman, full of frankness and good-will. It remains to be seen whether you really have the little attainments that I require."
"What must I do?"
"Talk, in the first place; and upon that point I am already satisfied. And then you must read, and play a little music."
"Try me right away; and if the little I can do suits you—"
"Yes, yes," she said, putting a book into my hands, "do read; I want to be enchanted with you."
At the end of a page she took the book away from me, with the remark that my reading was perfect. Then came the music. There was a piano in the room. She asked me if I could read at sight. As that is about all I can do, I could satisfy her again on that point. Finally she told me that, knowing my writing and my style of composition, from letters of mine which Madame d'Arglade had shown her, she considered that I would be an excellent secretary, and she dismissed me, giving me her hand, and saying many kind things to me. I asked her for one day—to-morrow—in order to see some people here with whom we are acquainted, and she has given orders that I should be installed Saturday.—
Dear sister, I have just been interrupted. What a pleasant surprise! It is a note from Madame de Villemer,—a note of three lines, which I transcribe for you:—