"Why? Yes, you are right. The ugly believe themselves beautiful, and to the desire to please they add the faculty of making themselves ridiculous. You would better perhaps have the art of pleasing,--provided you do not abuse it. Well now, are you good enough girl and strong enough woman to give me a little account of your past life? Have you had some romance? Yes, you have,--have n't you? It is impossible that it could have been otherwise? You are twenty-two or twenty-three years old--" "I am twenty-four, and I have had no other romance than the one of which I am going to tell you in two words. At seventeen I was sought in marriage by a person who pleased me, and who withdrew when he learned that my father had left more debts than capital. I was very much grieved, but I have forgotten it all, and I have sworn never to marry." "Ah! that is spite, and not forgetfulness." "No, Madame, that was an effort of the reason. Having nothing, but believing myself to be something, I did not wish to make a foolish marriage; and, far from having any spite, I have forgiven him who abandoned me. I forgave him especially the day when, seeing my sister and her four children in misery, I understood the sorrow of the father of a family who dies with the pain of knowing that he can leave nothing to his orphans." "And you saw that ingrate again?" "No, never. He is married, and I have ceased to think of him." "And since then you have never thought of any other?" "No, Madame." "How have you done?" "I do not know. I believe I have not had time to think of myself. When one is very poor, and does not want to give up to misery, the days are well filled out." "But you have, nevertheless, been much sought after, pretty as you are,--have you not?" "No, Madame, no one has troubled me in that way. I do not believe in persecutions which are not at all encouraged." "I think as you do, and I am satisfied with your manner of answering. Do you, then, fear nothing for yourself in the future?" "I fear nothing at all." "And will not this solitude of the heart make you sad or sullen?" "I do not foresee it in any way. I am naturally cheerful, and I have preserved my command over myself in the midst of the most cruel tests. I have no dream of love in my head; I am not romantic. If I ever change I shall be very much astonished. That, Madame, is all I can tell you about myself. Will you take me such as I represent myself with confidence, since I can after all but give myself out for what I know myself to be?" "Yes, I take you for what you are,--an excellent young woman, full of frankness and good-will. It remains to be seen whether you really have the little attainments that I require." "What must I do?" "Talk, in the first place; and upon that point I am already satisfied. And then you must read, and play a little music." "Try me right away; and if the little I can do suits you--"