“I suppose you have no carriages in Tenos?”
“There are no roads to begin with, and in consequence no vehicles of any sort. It is a very rough, wild place.”
“And now you have come to Athens to be married,” concluded Eméraude. “Do you look forward to marriage?”
A dusky colour shot up into Inarime’s face like a hidden flame. She fixed her eyes slowly on Mademoiselle Veritassi.
“If it is my father’s wish that I should marry, it will be my duty to obey him, but I trust he will not ask it of me.”
Another look of wondering consternation flashed over the circle. Not wish to marry! have a house of her own and take precedence of unmarried girls! be somebody in social life, give parties and travel!
“I thought all girls liked the notion of getting married,” remarked Miss Mary Perpignani. “It is so dull to be unmarried, not to be able to go out alone, or to go to Antoinette’s and order what you like. Just think how delightful it must be to be free, like a young man, and do all sorts of lovely naughty things, dance twice if you like with the handsomest officer without any one to tell you it is not convenable, and read all the dreadful French novels. We poor girls are so harassed with that horrid word convenable. To see little boys at the age of ten allowed to stand on their heads and we, aching for liberty, not allowed to budge at thirty if we are not married!”
“Oh, shocking to think of, as the English say,” cried Sappho, clapping her hands to her ears to shut out the spoken description. “We are martyrs, we unhappy girls.”
“Your faces belie your misery,” said Inarime, gravely.
“Que voulez-vous, Mademoiselle?” Eméraude retorted, gaily, “nous autres, nous sommes á peu près Françaises. Il faut être bien mis et savoir rire malgré tout. Avent de me tuer, je mettrai ma plus jolie robe.”