He was in the midst of his imaginations when Adèle Rougeant stepped into the kitchen. On perceiving Frank she was a little astonished, but soon recovered her self-control and assumed a well-bred smile.
The young man immediately hastened to explain the cause of his presence. He was greatly astonished. Here, then, was the corpulent country-girl his imagination had fancied! Before him stood a young lady altogether different to anything he had pictured her to be. "A girl of about seventeen," he tells himself, but later on he discovered that she was one year older than that; plainly, but well dressed. Her gown fitted her slender form to perfection. Every detail in her dress was arranged with such taste, her small shoes, the exquisite lace round her throat and such a charming face peeping out of it all. She was not beautiful, but she was pretty and attractive, she opened her mouth when she smiled as well as when she spoke.
"Pray be seated," said the young lady to Frank who had risen on her approach.
Frank sat down, quite confused and ready to run out of the room. He felt very timid, so far, as to be uncivil; in the presence of Adèle. A young man who has spent most of his time alone, studying, will be timid when he meets a representative of the softer sex.
He scarcely lifted his eyes from the floor. He knew she would think him ill-bred, he was ashamed of himself, but he could not help it. He was full of bashfulness. Now, bashfulness is almost always a sure sign of amour-propre.
He scolded himself, but his red face grew redder. It was soon of a colour resembling peacock-blue.
Noticing his discomposure, Miss Rougeant could not help sharing some of it, and, doubtless, things would soon have come to an awkward point for both, if Mr. Rougeant had not put in an appearance.
"So this is the gentleman who saved your life?" said his daughter, speaking in English.
In the same language Mr. Rougeant replied: "Yes, this is he."
She had now regained all her former ease, and knowing her father's manners, thanked Frank most cordially.