“What a sweet girl she is!” said Mme. Léopold as the door closed on the slight young figure.
“She is charming,” assented Mme. de Kerbec; “but Polly’s beauty throws her quite into the shade.”
Both the French lady and Mrs. Monteagle exclaimed at this. “I think her face more sympathetic and her manner infinitely more so!” said Mme. Léopold.
“No comparison!” chimed in Mrs. Monteagle; “and she has three times the brains of Polly.”
“One does not want much brains with such an amount of beauty,” said Mme. de Kerbec. “Polly is sure to marry much better. Men don’t care for clever wives; they are jealous of them.”
“That may be the case with Englishmen, but I protest in the name of my own countrymen,” said Mme. Léopold. “I never knew a Frenchman yet who objected to his wife having brains.”
“Very likely not,” said Mrs. Monteagle; “provided she has money, I don’t suppose a Frenchman would object to anything, even to her being a lunatic.”
“You are severe, chère madame,” said Mme. Léopold, looking hurt.
“Mrs. Monteagle suspects every Frenchman of marrying for money,” said Mme. de Kerbec. This was a tender point with her, for everybody, of course, knew that M. de Kerbec had married her for her money, and that she had married him for his title.
“I can only judge by what I see,” said Mrs. Monteagle; “and I see that the first and last and only thing that they ask, or rather that their family asks, about a young lady is, ‘How much money has she?’”