LXIII
But she certainly had not planned to throw the carnation. The missile hurled, she had been seized with paralyzing fright. The shade of her grandmother seemed to rise, appalling in its shocked propriety. One could almost hear her saying: "My unhappy child, you have become more like your mother than I could have believed, had I not seen!..."
Now in sheer desperation she mocked on, dissembling her terror.
"What is the matter? Why are you so dull and distrait? Are you tired of living shut up in a garden? Answer me, I pray you, Monsieur!"
He looked at her, and his cleft chin squared itself, and his broad red eyebrows lowered into a line of determination. He said doggedly:
"The happiest time of my life has been spent shut up in this garden! I believe you know that very well!"
She burst into silver laughter and cried to him teasingly:
"But you did not look at all happy when I peeped at you in the night from my window. See! Thus, with the hands miles deep in the pockets, and the shoulders elevated to the tips of the ears!"
She jumped up and mimicked the slouching gait of the midnight cogitator, brilliantly and with fidelity, parading between the dinner table and the long windows that opened toward the lawn. He recognized himself, and reddened, while he laughed with vexation. He had never before seen her in this mood of Puck-like mischief. He had yet to become acquainted with another phase of Juliette.
"Did you learn to act so well at your Convent?" he asked her, and she answered with sudden gravity: