“What, miss! do you regret having been so virtuous?”

“Why, you see, I regret, at least, that I have not had the pleasure of refusing.  But how can you refuse, when nothing is asked—­when you are not even thought worth one little loving word?”

“But, miss, allow me to observe to you that the indifference of which you complain does not see to have prevented your making a long stay in the house in question.”

“How should I know why the prince kept me there, or took me out riding with him, or to the play?  Perhaps it is the fashion in his savage country to have a pretty girl by your side, and to pay no attention to her at all!”

“But why, then, did you remain, miss?”

“Why did I remain?” said Rose-Pompon, stamping her loot with vexation.  “I remained because, without knowing how it happened, I began to get very fond of Prince Charming; and what is queer enough, I, who am as gay as a lark, loved him because he was so sorrowful, which shows that it was a serious matter.  At last, one day, I could hold out no longer.  I said:  ’Never mind; I don’t care for the consequences.  Philemon, I am sure, is having his fun in the country.’  That set my mind at ease.  So one morning, I dress myself in my best, all very pretty, look in my glass, and say:  ’Well, that will do—­he can’t stand that! and, going to his room, I tell him all that passes through my head; I laugh, I cry—­at last I tell him that I adore him.  What do you think he answers, in his mild voice, and as cold as a piece of marble?  Why, ‘Poor child—­poor child—­poor child!’” added Rose-Pompon, with indignation; “neither more nor less than if I had come to complain to him of the toothache.  But the worst of it is that I am sure, if he were not in love elsewhere, he would be all fire and gunpowder.  Only now he is so sad, so dejected!”

Then, pausing a moment, Rose-Pompon added:  “No, I will not tell you that; you would be too pleased.”  But, after another pause, she continued:  “Well, never mind; I will tell you, though”; and this singular girl looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with a mixture of sympathy and deference.  “Why should I keep it from you?  I began by riding the high horse, and saying that the prince wished to marry me; and I finished by confessing that he almost turned me out.  Well, it’s not my fault; when I try to fib, I am sure to get confused.  So, madame, this is the plain truth:—­When I met you at poor Mother Bunch’s, I was at first as angry as a little turkey-cock; but when I heard you, that are such a fine great lady, speak so kindly to the poor girl, and treat her as your sister, do what I would, my anger began to go away.  Since we have been here, I have done my utmost to get it up again; but I find it impossible, and the more I see the difference between us, the more I perceive that Prince Charming was right in thinking so much of you.  For you must know, madame, that he is over head and ears in love with you.  I don’t say so merely because