This conversation gave Eudoxia a feeling of satisfaction which rendered her more indulgent, and more patient with her companions; but in this indulgence there might perhaps be discovered a slight degree of pride; it had something of the kindness of a superior being always thinking of keeping herself sufficiently above others to avoid being hurt by their not acting with as much propriety as herself.
Eudoxia insensibly acquired the habit of considering her companions as children, and almost of treating them as such. One day when the four girls were working together, they compared their various performances, and Honorine's, which was like Eudoxia's, happened to be much worse done.
"That is a very difficult stitch," said she, with the same air as if she were making an excuse for a child of six years old.
It did not occur to her that the remark was equally applicable to herself. The others burst out laughing.
"Be quiet," said Honorine, "do you not see that Eudoxia has the kindness to protect me?"
Eudoxia felt so much hurt that the tears started to her eyes. She was satisfied with herself, and believed she had a right to be so, and yet she met with nothing but injustice and mockery. She again began to withdraw herself from her companions.
Her mother perceived this, and inquired the reason. Eudoxia felt some difficulty in confessing it, though she considered herself in the right. The ridicule that had been cast upon her had given rise to a species of shame. At last, however, she stated the cause.
"You were, then, very much hurt, were you not?" asked Madame d'Aubonne, "because Honorine appeared to think that you affected to protect her? It seems that you would have considered such a thing very ridiculous."
"Oh! mamma, it is not necessary that a thing should be ridiculous for them to laugh at it."