“Why, yes, pretty nearly.”
“Oh! you don’t choose to admit it, but I saw well enough that you thought her pretty.”
“Pretty; to be sure she is.”
“And well bred.”
“As to that, I think so, but——”
“In short, she pleased you, my dear brother?”
“Pleased me! oh! come now! I haven’t said anything to prove——”
“But I can’t see why it isn’t perfectly natural. Surely your lady friends in Paris can’t resemble the charming Pélagie?”
“Resemble her! Oh! as to that, I agree with you absolutely.”
Amélie seemed quite content; in vain did I tell her that she was mistaken; she was persuaded that I was in love with Pélagie. Déneterre kept repeating that it would be an excellent match; and as I could not make them stop talking, I adopted the expedient of going to bed.