At another period of the evening the conversation became more general; and Edouard took a dislike to Colonel Dujardin. A young man of twenty-eight nearly always looks on a boy of twenty-one with the air of a superior, and this assumption, not being an ill-natured one, is apt to be so easy and so undefined that the younger hardly knows how to resent or to resist it. But Edouard was a little vain as we know; and the Colonel jarred him terribly. His quick haughty eye jarred him. His regimentals jarred him: they fitted like a glove. His mustache and his manner jarred him, and, worst of all, his cool familiarity with Rose, who seemed to court him rather than be courted by him. He put this act of Rose’s to the colonel’s account, according to the custom of lovers, and revenged himself in a small way by telling Josephine in her ear “that the colonel produced on his mind the effect of an intolerable puppy.” Josephine colored up and looked at him with a momentary surprise. She said quietly, “Military men do give themselves some airs, but he is very amiable at bottom. You must make a better acquaintance with him, and then he will reveal to you his nobler qualities.”--“Oh! I have no particular desire,” sneered unlucky Edouard. Sweet as Josephine was, this was too much for her: she said nothing; but she quietly turned Edouard over to Aubertin, and joined Rose, and under cover of her had a sweet timid chat with her falsely accused. This occupied the two so entirely that Edouard was neglected. This hurt his foible, and seemed to be so unkind on the very first day of his return that he made his adieus to the baroness, and marched off in dudgeon unobserved. Rose missed him first, but said nothing. When Josephine saw he was gone, she uttered a little exclamation, and looked at Rose. Rose put on a mien of haughty indifference, but the water was in her eyes. Josephine looked sorrowful. When they talked over everything together at night, she reproached herself. “We behaved ill to poor Edouard: we neglected him.” “He is a little cross, ill-tempered fellow,” said Rose pettishly. “Oh, no! no!” “And as vain as a peacock.” “Has he not some right to be vain in this house?” “Yes,--no. I am very angry with him. I won’t hear a word in his favor,” said Rose pouting: then she gave his defender a kiss. “Yes, dear,” said Josephine, answering the kiss, and ignoring the words, “he is a dear; and he is not cross, nor so very vain, poor boy! now don’t you see what it was?” “No.” “Yes, you do, you little cunning thing: you are too shrewd not to see everything.” “No, indeed, Josephine; do tell me, don’t keep me waiting: I can’t bear that.” “Well, then--jealous! A little.” “Jealous? Oh, what fun! Of Camille? Ha! ha! Little goose!” “And,” said Josephine very seriously, “I almost think he would be jealous of any one that occupied your attention. I watched him more or less all the evening.” “All the better. I’ll torment my lord.”