“Then you must admire yourself a great deal.”

“Oh, I!  In my early youth I worked from necessity, and then I formed a habit which I cannot now get rid of; while Camille Langis—­”

“Once more?” she ejaculated, with a gesture of impatience.  “What prompts you to speak to me of Camille?”

“Nothing.  I often think of him.”

“Do not let us two play at diplomacy.  You have had news of him lately?”

“You just remind me that I have, through a letter from Mme. De Lorcy.”

“Mme de Lorcy, my godmother, would do better to meddle with what concerns her.  That woman is incorrigible.”

“Of what would you have her correct herself?”

“Simply of her mania for making my happiness after her own fashion.  I read in your eyes that Camille has returned to Paris.  What is his object?”

“I know nothing about it.  How should I know?  I only presume—­that is, I suppose——­”

“You do not suppose—­you know.”

“Not at all.  At the same time, since hypothesis is the road which leads to science, a road we savants travel every day, I—­”

“You know very well,” she again interposed, “that I promised him nothing.”

“Strictly speaking, I admit; but you requested me to tell him that you found him too young.  He has laboured conscientiously since then to correct that fault.”  Then playfully pinching her cheeks, he added:  “You are a great girl for objections.  Soon you will be twenty-five years old, and you have refused five eligible offers.  Have you taken a vow to remain unmarried?”

“Ah! you have no mercy,” she cried.  “What! you cannot even spare me on the Albula!  You know that, of all subjects of conversation, I have most antipathy for this.”

“Come, come; you are slandering me now, my child.  I spoke to you of Camille as I might have spoken of the King of Prussia; and you rose in arms at once, taking it wholly to yourself.”

Antoinette was silent for some moments.

“Decidedly, you are very fond of Camille,” she presently said.

“Of all the sons-in-law you could propose to me——­”

“But I do not propose any.”

“That is precisely what I find fault with.”

“Very good; since you think so much of him, this Camille, suppose you command me to marry him?”

“If I were to command, would you obey?”

“Perhaps, just for the curiosity of the thing,” she rejoined, laughing.

“Naughty girl, to mock at her father!” said he.  “If these twenty years
I have been in servitude, I can scarcely emancipate myself in a day. 
However, since the great king deigns to hold parley with his ministers,
I am Pomponne—­let us argue.”

“Ah, well! you know as well as I that I have a real friendship for Camille, as the playmate of my childhood.  I remember him when he was ever so small, and he remembers me, too, when I was a tiny creature.  We played hide-and-seek together, and he humoured me in my ten thousand little caprices.  Delightful reminiscences these, but unfortunately I think of them too much when I see him.”