"If you were to ask me, I would tell you that this Mme. Chambannes is a little fool, that her set is extremely frivolous, that those you are taking up with will bring you nothing but unpleasantness and affronts.... I would tell you.... But, no, father, my respect commands me to be silent." The tips of her fingers rose and fell on her crossed arms, like two palpitating wings. "Oh, ho! We are getting excited!" M. Raindal replied, as if he felt jocular. "Phew! If I remember rightly, little girl, you were not so severe on the evening of the ball.... Do you recollect, after dinner?..." Thérèse could not repress a shrug. "What, father! Didn't you understand that I meant it to be sarcastic, that those people were hateful to me, that they were revolting to me?... Haven't you sized them up yourself?... All that Uncle Cyprien tells us is mere childishness in presence of the truth.... Race, blood, nationality--there is much more than these! They are people of a species different from ours, do you hear me, father? All of them, Germans, Prussians, French, English, Italians or what not, they belong to one and the same band, to one tribe, and one that will never be ours.... To think that you, a man in your position.... because this little fool flattered you, coaxed you!" These last words caused a sharp contraction of his mouth. "Allow me," he said. "No, no, you must allow me, child.... You are wandering.... You forget somewhat whom you are addressing.... And you must admit that I have the right, with my ripe experience, to tell you that I am perhaps quite as good a judge of people as you are.... You must admit also that, up to the present, I have led my life in a way that gives neither you nor me any cause for blushing. Am I not right?" Instead of replying, Thérèse affected to glance through the pages of a book. He went on, more softly: "Believe me, my dear!... You should leave these and other theories to your excellent Uncle Cyprien.... Tell me that you do not like Mme. Chambannes; that her company inspires you with repulsion and mistrust.... Have no fear! If your impressions are justified, I shall be the first to notice it and to regulate my attitude accordingly.... But give up at least this attempt to delude yourself or me; do not transform your personal animosities into social views.... This would be unworthy of you, of your culture, of your intellectual position.... And when all is said, you know it yourself!" He smiled and gave her a look of appeal. "Come, give me a kiss!" The girl approached and offered her forehead. M. Raindal laid a long kiss upon it and pressed her firmly in his arms. "Huh lah! let's laugh!" the master exhorted her, for the face of Thérèse, although now calm, remained inert and dreamy. Her lips parted in an oblique smile. "Very good! Perfect!" M. Raindal said, exaggerating the satisfaction he derived from her incomplete grin.