“Well,” said the aunt, “what do you think of your husband?”
“Allow me to put off my answer till to-morrow; but be good enough, when we are at table, to draw me into the conversation, for it is very possible that my face has not repelled him, but so far he knows nothing of my mental powers; possibly my want of wit may destroy any slight impression my face may have made.”
“Yes, I am afraid you will begin to talk nonsense, and make him lose the good opinion he seems to have formed of you.”
“It is not right to deceive anybody. If he is disabused of his fictitious ideas by the appearance of the truth, so much the better for him; and so much the worse for both of us, if we decide on marrying without the slightest knowledge of each other’s habits and ways of thought.”
“What do you think of him?”
“I think he is rather nice-looking, and his manners are kind and polite; but let us wait till to-morrow.”
“Perhaps he will have nothing more to say to me; I am so stupid.”
“I know very well that you think yourself very clever, and that’s where your fault lies; it’s your self-conceit which makes you stupid, although M. Casanova takes you for a wit.”
“Perhaps he may know what he is talking about.”
“My poor dear, he is only laughing at you.”