“She will make a capital petit-mâitre . 82 Here are the garments, all⁠—all complete: somewhat too large, but⁠—I will arrange all that. Come, chère amie⁠—belle Anglaise !” 83

And she sneered, for I was not “ belle. ” She seized my hand, she was drawing me away. M. Paul stood impassable⁠—neutral.

“You must not resist,” pursued St. Pierre⁠—for resist I did. “You will spoil all, destroy the mirth of the piece, the enjoyment of the company, sacrifice everything to your amour-propre. This would be too bad⁠—monsieur will never permit this?”