"And the Don Quixote of which we coloured the engravings together?"
"I have it still!"
He recalled to her mind the day of her first communion, and how pretty she had been at vespers, with her white veil and her large wax-taper, whilst the girls were all taking their places in a row around the choir, and the bell was tinkling.
These memories, no doubt, had little charm for Mademoiselle Roque. She had not a word to say; and, a minute later:
"Naughty fellow! never to have written a line to me, even once!"
Frederick urged by way of excuse his numerous occupations.
"What, then, are you doing?"
He was embarrassed by the question; then he told her that he was studying politics.
"Ha!"
And without questioning him further: