"Now you are going mad again, just as I thought you were becoming reasonable, Mila! As if the princess could have invited you, even if she had taken it into her head to do it!"
"Why, of course she could; isn't she the mistress of her own house?"
"Even so! what would all those ancient dowagers, all those august blockheads say, if they should see little Mila, with her velvet jacket and striped skirt, dancing about among their noble dolls of daughters?"
"Let me tell you, that I might perhaps cut a better figure than all of them, young and old!"
"That is no reason."
"I know that; but the princess is a queen in her house, and I will bet that she will invite me to the first ball she chooses to give."
"You will ask her to, I suppose?"
"To be sure! I know her, and she is very fond of me; she is a friend of mine."
As she said this, Mila drew herself up and assumed an air of importance, so comical and so fascinating that Michel laughed and kissed her.
"I like to see, Mila," he said, "that you have no suspicion of anything. And why should I deceive you? You will lose soon enough the trustful illusions of your age of gold! But, since you know this beautiful princess so well, pray tell me something about her, my dear little sister; tell me how it happens that you are so intimately acquainted with her, without my knowing anything about it?"