"She is a child, Professor; you must forgive her. She often drives me to distraction with her follies. I had more sense at sixteen than she has at twenty, but she is a good girl at heart, and she has many good qualities. She is an admirable musician, she paints flowers exquisitely, and she speaks French, German and Italian equally well.... She embroiders."
"And she composes Jmoudic verses," added the Count, laughing.
"She is incapable of it," exclaimed Madam Dowghiello; and they had to explain her niece's mischievousness.
Madam Dowghiello was well educated, and knew the antiquities of her country. Her conversation was particularly agreeable to me. She read many of our German reviews, and held very sane views upon philology. I admit that I did not notice the time that Mademoiselle Iwinska took to dress, but it seemed long to Count Szémioth, who got up and sat down again, looked out of the window, and drummed on the pane with his fingers as a man who has lost patience.
At length, at the end of three-quarters of an hour, Mademoiselle Julienne appeared, wearing with exquisite grace a dress which would require more critical knowledge than mine to describe. She was followed by her French governess.
"Do I not look pretty?" she said to the Count, turning round slowly so that he could see her from all sides.
She did not look either at the Count or at me, but at her new dress.
"How is it, Ioulka," said Madam Dowghiello, "that you do not say good day to the Professor? He complains of you."
"Ah, Professor!" she cried, with a charming little pout. "What have I done? Have you come to make me do penance?"
"We shall punish ourselves, Mademoiselle, if we deprive ourselves of your presence," I answered. "I am far from complaining; on the contrary, I congratulate myself on having learnt, thanks to you, that the Lithuanian Muse has reappeared more brightly than ever."