Antoinette was silent for some moments.
“Decidedly, you are very fond of Camille,” she presently said.
“Of all the sons-in-law you could propose to me——”
“But I do not propose any.”
“That is precisely what I find fault with.”
“Very good; since you think so much of him, this Camille, suppose you command me to marry him?”
“If I were to command, would you obey?”
“Perhaps, just for the curiosity of the thing,” she rejoined, laughing.
“Naughty girl, to mock at her father!” said he. “If these twenty years I have been in servitude, I can scarcely emancipate myself in a day. However, since the great king deigns to hold parley with his ministers, I am Pomponne—let us argue.”
“Ah, well! you know as well as I that I have a real friendship for Camille, as the playmate of my childhood. I remember him when he was ever so small, and he remembers me, too, when I was a tiny creature. We played hide-and-seek together, and he humoured me in my ten thousand little caprices. Delightful reminiscences these, but unfortunately I think of them too much when I see him.”