Caroline was a spoiled child; that was evident from her wilful manner, from her fits of impatience when her whims were not gratified; but she was so attractive, so fascinating when she chose to be agreeable, that it was really difficult to resist her. I believed that she had an affectionate, susceptible heart, a little inclined to enthusiasm perhaps. The interest that she manifested in me troubled me sometimes; I dreaded lest she should be in love with me. I dreaded it, because that love could not make her happy; but in the depths of my heart I should have been flattered, yes, enchanted; for our self-esteem is always more readily listened to than our reason.
To divert my mind from such ideas, I gazed at my daughter’s portrait, I asked her pardon for not returning to her at once; but I knew that she was with Ernest and his wife, and I was certain that she was well and that they often talked to her about me.
The hour for our drive arrived and I joined Mademoiselle Derbin and her uncle. Caroline wore a lovely costume; her great dark eyes shone with a deeper light than usual; they expressed pleasure and satisfaction.
“Do you think that I look well in this dress, monsieur?” she asked.
“I think that you always look well, mademoiselle.”
“Is that true? Do you mean what you say?”
“To be sure I do. Besides, I am only the echo of the whole world.”
“I do not like to have you an echo; I don’t ask you what other people say; that is entirely indifferent to me.”
We were just about starting when Caroline exclaimed:
“By the way, suppose I should invite Madame Blémont to go with us?”