"Yes, he loves me as Max! He told me so. It has made me marvellously happy—marvellously happy and, also"—she sighed—"also, Jacqueline, just a little sad!"
"Sad, madame?"
"Yes, sad because he loves Max as one loves a child, expecting no return; and—I would be loved as an equal."
"Assuredly, madame."
"I must be loved as an equal!" Fire suddenly kindled her dreaming voice; a look, clear and alert, suddenly crossed her eyes. "Jacqueline," she cried, "I have set myself a new task. I shall make him respect Max as well as love him; Max shall become his equal. Now, suppose you set yourself a task like that, how would you begin?"
"Oh, madame!" Jacqueline was all deprecation.
"Do not fear. Tell me!"
"Madame, it is not for me—" Jacqueline's triumph in the moment, and her concealing of the triumph, were things exquisitely feminine.
"Tell me!"
"I may speak from the heart, madame?"