"Oh, mother," he exclaimed, "do not misunderstand me!"
"My son, I know you are not as some of the light-minded cousins we knew in France; but a word of warning does no harm, even if it be not needed."
"I think you may be at ease, maman. You amaze me when you call her beautiful. A pleasant little maid she seems to me, and not always the same, and at times gay,—oh, when away from her mother,—and intelligent, too. But beautiful—oh, hardly. Soyez tranquille, maman."
"I did not say she was beautiful. I said she was good-looking; or that at least was what I meant. Certainly she is unlike our too ignorant demoiselles; but contrast with the familiar may have its peril. It is quite another type from our young women at home, and attractive enough in its way—in its bourgeois way."
He smiled. "I am quite too busy to concern myself with young women." In fact he had begun to find interest in a little study of this new type. "Yes, quite too busy."
"That is as well." But she was not at ease. On the whole, she thought it would be proper now for him to go to Mrs. Bingham's and to the President's receptions. Miss Wynne would see that he had the entrée. He was too occupied, he said once more, and his clothes were quite unfit. Neither was he inclined yet awhile. And so he rode away to town with several things to think about, and on Thursday the vicomtesse made clear to the well-pleased Mrs. Swanwick that she was glad of the quiet and the English lessons and the crisp talk of Schmidt, who spoke French, but not fluently, and concerning whom she was mildly jealous and, for her, curious. "Schmidt, my son? No; a name disguised. He is a gentleman to his finger-ends, but surely a strange one."
"It is enough, maman, that he is my friend. Often I, too, am curious; but—ah, well, I wonder why he likes me; but he does, and I am glad of it."
"You wonder. I do not," and she smiled.
"Ah, the vain maman!" he cried. It was very rare that she praised him, and she was by long habit given to no demonstrations of affection.