Vincent came in from the conservatory.
“It is nearly half-past nine, and you have only as yet done your hair,” continued Elise in blank astonishment. “What have you been thinking about?”
“I don’t think that your cousin is going, madam,” said St. [[286]]Clare, as Eline was too confused to speak. “We heard, Vincent and I, that the company would be rather mixed at the ball—and I advised Miss Vere not to go rather than risk unpleasant encounters. I hope you will pardon me for giving that advice. Of course, I know she would have been under your protection and that of her uncle, but I thought that such circles were even more to be avoided by a young girl than by a married lady, even though she be as charming as yourself. Was I very wrong?”
Elise hesitated whether she should be angry or not, but in his voice there was so much determination and at the same time so much that was winning, that she felt herself completely disarmed. Daniel Vere just shrugged his shoulders.
“Whether you were wrong?” Elise repeated, still hesitating. “Well, perhaps not. Of course Eline can do as she likes. If she would rather not go, eh bien, soit! then we shall pretend that she had a headache. That is easy enough. But you will have a terrible ennui, Eline.”
“No, really, I would much rather stay at home,” said Eline; “at least, that is, if you are not offended.”
“Not at all. Liberté chérie, child.”
The servant came in to say that the carriage was at the door, and brought uncle’s and Vincent’s furs. The maid assisted Elise to her fur cape.
“If your uncle and aunt have no objection, I should like to keep you company for a little while?” asked St. Clare.
Uncle and aunt thought it excellent. Eline was still rather confused.