"Yes, admirable," assented the princess. "It gives such a grasp of, such an insight into, human nature. That is one of the strange things about Bianca, for instance," she added, suddenly.
"That she has an insight into human nature?" demanded Monsieur d'Antin. "If she has, Jeanne, it must be a miraculous gift, for she can have seen little enough of it."
"No, no! I mean that she cannot bear Monsieur l'Abbé. Would you believe it, Philippe, that notwithstanding all his kindness, that child positively refuses to go to confession to him? She refused years ago, and now I never mention the subject."
"Tiens!" observed Monsieur d'Antin.
"It is incredible," continued his sister, "but nevertheless it is true."
Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders.
"It appears," he said, enigmatically, "that your step-daughter also has studied in Rome."
The princess dropped her voice mysteriously.
"I believe," she said, "that the mother, my blessed husband's first wife, you know, was an odd woman—or child, rather—for she was little more. There was some story—she was in love with some other man who was not thought a good enough match for her, and her family obliged her to marry my poor husband. It was not a happy marriage."
"That," observed Monsieur d'Antin, "was no doubt his reason for marrying again. He was determined to find happiness."