She hastily withdrew her hand.
"No, no!" she cried; "I don't know what I am saying, or what I am thinking about! Come, let us talk, my dear friend; who is this girl that I found with you?"
"She—why, she's a grisette; and a very pretty one, too, is she not?"
"Yes, that may be. She lisps when she talks."
"Oh! really now! Once in a while, there's something that makes her voice tremble, it is true, but it isn't at all disagreeable; quite the contrary."
"That's a matter of taste. Some men like women who lisp, just as some like red hair. I have known some who even went so far as to adore women with a limp."
"Oh! how caustic you are to-day, Frédérique!"
"And this beauty, with the quivering voice—how long have you known her?"
"Since day before yesterday."
"Peste! she's quite new! And the acquaintance is already—complete; you have nothing else to wish for?"