“Very good: you must know, then, that this very day and in my presence he---- -her.” “If that displeased you, you must be jealous.” “Possibly, but the fact is that I was humbled by a circumstance I dare not tell you.” “I think you are laughing at me with your ‘dare not tell you.’” “God forbid, mademoiselle! I will confess, then, that I was humbled because Madame Lambertini made me see that my friend was taller than myself by two inches.” “Then she imposed on you, for you are taller than your friend.” “I am not speaking of that kind of tallness, but another; you know what I mean, and there my friend is really monstrous.” “Monstrous! then what have you to be sorry about? Isn’t it better not to be monstrous?” “Certainly; but in the article we are discussing, some women, unlike you, prefer monstrosity.” “I think that’s absurd of them, or rather mad; or perhaps, I have not sufficiently clear ideas on the subject to imagine what size it would be to be called monstrous; and I think it is odd that such a thing should humble you.” “You would not have thought it of me, to see me?” “Certainly not, for when I came into the room I thought you looked a well-proportioned man, but if you are not I am sorry for you.” “I won’t leave you in doubt on the subject; look for yourself, and tell me what you think.” “Why, it’s you who are the monster! I declare you make me feel quite afraid.” At this she began to perspire violently, and went behind her aunt’s chair. I did not stir, as I was sure she would soon come back, putting her down in my own mind as very far removed from silliness or innocence either. I supposed she wished to affect what she did not possess. I was, moreover, delighted at having taken the opportunity so well. I had punished her for having tried to impose on me; and as I had taken a great fancy to her, I was pleased that she seemed to like her punishment. As for her possession of wit, there could be no doubt on that point, for it was she who had sustained the chief part in our dialogue, and my sayings and doings were all prompted by her questions, and the persevering way in which she kept to the subject. She had not been behind her aunt’s chair for five minutes when the latter was looed. She, not knowing whom to attack, turned on her niece and said, “Get you gone, little silly, you are bringing me bad luck! Besides, it is bad manners to leave the gentleman who so kindly offered to keep you company all by himself.” The amiable niece made no answer, and came back to me smiling. “If my aunt knew,” said she, “what you had done to me, she would not have accused me of bad manners.” “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I want you to have some evidence of my repentance, but all that I can do is to go. Will you be offended if I do?” “If you leave me, my aunt will call me a dreadful stupid, and will say that I have tired you out.” “Would you like me to stay, then?” “You can’t go.” “Had you no idea what I shewed you was like till just now?”