Monsieur de Nivert smiled.
A little piqued, I think, "my own" replied:
"Indeed, such a conversation is beyond the depths of the young girls of our continent. In America they willingly take part in such discussions. Is there not some State in the North where women have the right to vote?"
"Do you hear, Juliette?" said mama.
Did I hear? I think I did! He wearied me, this economist bent on matrimony, and I let him see it very plainly. I took up the accusation of frivolity implied in his sentence, but I took it up as a banner. Proudly I declared my right—the right of a pretty woman to be ignorant, frivolous, and whimsical. I argued the advantages of frivolity over seriousness, and of spirit and dash over dignity.
Oh, papa's expression and that of the two relics of the Empire and the mother of "my own"!
"My own" seemed perfectly amazed at discovering a young girl capable of giving him a retort that took the wind out of his sails.
Nivert alone encouraged me with smiles and whispered bravos.
The dinner ended in confusion.
In the drawing-room, in order to serve the coffee, I became a very proper young lady again; but the company had not regained its wonted composure. Madame Salandier could find nothing better to say than to ask: