“Yes, my dear fellow; for although my niece always arranges everything to suit her own whim, I must needs pretend to have done it. However, be sure that I shall be most delighted to have you for a travelling companion.” I did not know what to say, what to decide upon; it seemed to me that I ought to go, and yet it would be most agreeable to me to remain. A week soon passes. I should not come into contact with Madame Blémont, since she would remain in her room, and she herself had entreated me not to go away. While I made these reflections, Caroline came to my side. At last she tapped me lightly on the shoulder. “Whenever you are ready, monsieur,--we are waiting for your reply.” “Oh, excuse me, mademoiselle; I was thinking----” “Will you return to Paris with us?” “I am afraid of incommoding you. I have someone with me.” “Your German? There is a seat behind the carriage.” “Very well, I accept, mademoiselle.” “Ah! that is very kind of you!” Once more Mademoiselle Derbin was in a charming humor. She arranged a drive for the day, intending to visit some points of view in the neighborhood of which someone had told her. We must be ready in an hour; she left us to attend to her toilette; we were to have no sitting for the portrait that day. Caroline was a spoiled child; that was evident from her wilful manner, from her fits of impatience when her whims were not gratified; but she was so attractive, so fascinating when she chose to be agreeable, that it was really difficult to resist her. I believed that she had an affectionate, susceptible heart, a little inclined to enthusiasm perhaps. The interest that she manifested in me troubled me sometimes; I dreaded lest she should be in love with me. I dreaded it, because that love could not make her happy; but in the depths of my heart I should have been flattered, yes, enchanted; for our self-esteem is always more readily listened to than our reason. To divert my mind from such ideas, I gazed at my daughter’s portrait, I asked her pardon for not returning to her at once; but I knew that she was with Ernest and his wife, and I was certain that she was well and that they often talked to her about me. The hour for our drive arrived and I joined Mademoiselle Derbin and her uncle. Caroline wore a lovely costume; her great dark eyes shone with a deeper light than usual; they expressed pleasure and satisfaction. “Do you think that I look well in this dress, monsieur?” she asked. “I think that you always look well, mademoiselle.” “Is that true? Do you mean what you say?” “To be sure I do. Besides, I am only the echo of the whole world.” “I do not like to have you an echo; I don’t ask you what other people say; that is entirely indifferent to me.” We were just about starting when Caroline exclaimed: “By the way, suppose I should invite Madame Blémont to go with us?” “You know very well that she is ill, mademoiselle; she will refuse.” “A drive cannot fail to do her good. I am going to ask her.”