“Haven’t you a better room to receive your friends in?” said I.
“I have no friends, so I don’t want a room.”
“Get it, my dear, and you will find the friends come fast enough. This is all very well for you to welcome your relations in, but not persons like myself who come to do homage to your charms and your talents.”
“Sir,” said the mother, “my daughter has but few talents, and thinks nothing of her charms, which are small.”
“You are extremely modest, and I appreciate your feelings; but everybody does not see your daughter with the same eyes, and she pleased me greatly.”
“That is an honour for her, and we are duly sensible of it, but not so as to be over-proud. My daughter will see you as often as you please, but here, and in no other place.”
“But I am afraid of being in the way here.”
“An honest man is never in the way.”
I felt ashamed, for nothing so confounds a libertine as modesty in the mouth of poverty; and not knowing what to answer I took my leave.
I told Thérèse of my unfortunate visit, and we both, laughed at it; it was the best thing we could do.