Othmar repeated to himself. ‘Poor child! there will be no miracle wrought for her.’
It seemed to him pathetic, and even cruel.
She had sung with science and accuracy which were in contrast with the very youthful cadence of her voice, and when she ceased there was a murmur of applause. She blushed a little, and with a composure that was almost dignity accepted the compliments paid her, and went back, without a word, to her seat.
‘She would make a name for herself as an artist if she were not the last Comtesse de Valogne,’ thought Othmar. ‘Poor child! it is hard to bear all the harness and curb of rank and have none of its gilded oats to eat.’
A pretty élégante was now singing a song of Judic’s with even more suggestion by gesture and of glance than the original version of it gave; the air of the drawing-room rippled with her silvery notes and their response of subdued laughter; everyone forgot Mdlle. de Valogne and the Provençal Noël. When Othmar looked again for her, she was gone: the salon saw her no more that night.
‘You were soon tired, Othmar,’ said the Duchesse. ‘Naturally: what should you find to say to a child from a convent? She has not two ideas.’
‘She speaks little, certainly,’ he answered; ‘but I am not sure that it is from want of ideas; and even if she have no ideas, what does a beautiful woman want with them?—and she is beautiful.’
‘I thought you liked clever women.’
‘Clever! Oh, what a comprehensive word. It is like that balloon they advertise, which you can either fold up in your pocket or float as high as the moon. As for Mdlle. de Valogne, I should think she was very intelligent, to judge by her brow and her eyes. But convents do not nourish their pupils on Rénan and Huxley.’
‘Rénan?’ said the Duchess, with a charming affectation of ignorance. ‘Oh, that is the man who writes so many volumes about himself to explain why he cannot bring himself to believe some story about an almond bough that swallowed snakes! When Voltaire began that sort of thing, it seemed shocking, but it was new; nowadays it is not new and nobody is shocked; it is only tiresome.’