“Certainly it would be if it were addressed to a stranger, but not to me who am his friend.  You will notice that the reply he extracted from me did me honour.  If I had not wished it to be known that I had been at Court, I should not have come here in this dress.”

“Very good; but as you like to be questioned, may I ask you why you were not presented by your own ambassador?”

“Because the Venetian ambassador would not present me, knowing that his Government have a bone to pick with me.”

By this time we had come to the dessert, and poor Sophie had not uttered a syllable.

“Say something to M. de Seingalt,” said her mother.

“I don’t know what to say,” she answered.  “Tell M. de Seingalt to ask me some questions, and I will answer to the best of my ability.”

“Well, Sophie, tell me in what studies you are engaged at the present time.”

“I am learning drawing; if you like I will shew you some of my work.”

“I will look at it with pleasure; but tell me how you think you have offended me; you have a guilty air.”

“I, sir?  I do not think I have done anything amiss.”

“Nor do I, my dear; but as you do not look at me when you speak I thought you must be ashamed of something.  Are you ashamed of your fine eyes?  You blush.  What have you done?”

“You are embarrassing her,” said the mother.  “Tell him, my dear, that you have done nothing, but that a feeling of modesty and respect prevents you from gazing at the persons you address.”

“Yes,” said I; “but if modesty bids young ladies lower their eyes, politeness should make them raise them now and again.”

No one replied to this objection, which was a sharp cut for the absurd woman; but after an interval of silence we rose from the table, and Sophie went to fetch her drawings.

“I won’t look at anything, Sophie, unless you will look at me.”

“Come,” said her mother, “look at the gentleman.”

She obeyed as quickly as lightning, and I saw the prettiest eyes imaginable.

“Now,” said I, “I know you again, and perhaps you may remember having seen me.”

“Yes, although it is six years ago since we met, I recognized you directly.”

“And yet you did not look me in the face!  If you knew how impolite it was to lower your eyes when you are addressing anyone, you would not do it.  Who can have given you such a bad lesson?”

The child glanced towards her mother, who was standing by a window, and I saw who was her preceptress.