“Divinely good!”
“Kind, charitable, gentle, generous?”
“Generosity itself; kindness double-distilled!”
“Is she clever?”
“She is the most intelligent woman I know. Try her, some day, with something difficult, and you will see.”
“Is she fond of admiration?”
“Parbleu!” cried Bellegarde; “what woman is not?”
“Ah, when they are too fond of admiration they commit all kinds of follies to get it.”
“I did not say she was too fond!” Bellegarde exclaimed. “Heaven forbid I should say anything so idiotic. She is not too anything! If I were to say she was ugly, I should not mean she was too ugly. She is fond of pleasing, and if you are pleased she is grateful. If you are not pleased, she lets it pass and thinks the worst neither of you nor of herself. I imagine, though, she hopes the saints in heaven are, for I am sure she is incapable of trying to please by any means of which they would disapprove.”
“Is she grave or gay?” asked Newman.