“I have only travelled through it,” Jeanne answered; “but I am afraid that you did not understand what I meant just now.  I said that there were very few people with whom I cared to talk.  You are not one of those few, Monsieur le Comte.”

He looked at her with a half-open mouth.  His eyes were suddenly like beads.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“I am afraid,” Jeanne answered, with a sigh, “that you are very unintelligent.  What I meant to say was that I do not like to sit here and talk with you.  It wearies me, because you do not say anything that interests me, and I should very much rather read my book.”

The Count de Brensault was nonplussed.  He looked at Jeanne, and he looked vaguely across the room at the Princess, as though wondering whether he ought to appeal to her.

“Have I offended you?” he asked.  “Perhaps I have said something that you do not like.  I am sorry.”

“No, it is not that at all,” Jeanne answered sweetly.  “It is simply that I do not like you.  You must not mind if I tell you the truth.  You see I have only just come from boarding-school, and there we were always taught to be quite truthful.”

De Brensault stared at her again.  This was the most extraordinary young woman whom he had ever met in his life.  Had not the Princess only an hour ago told him that although he might find her a little difficult at first, she was nevertheless prepared to receive his advances.  He had imagined himself dazzling her a little with his title and possessions, gracefully throwing the handkerchief at her feet, and giving her that slight share in his life and affection which his somewhat continental ideas of domesticity suggested.  Had she really meant to be rude to him, or was she nervous?  He looked at her once more, still with that unintelligent stare.  Jeanne was perfectly composed, with her pale cheeks and large serious eyes.  She was obviously speaking the truth.  Then as he looked the expression in his eyes changed.  She was gradually becoming desirable, not only on account of her youth and dowry—­there were other things.  He felt a sudden desire to kiss those very shapely, somewhat full lips, which had just told him so calmly that their owner disliked him.  Already he was telling himself in his mind that some day, when she was his altogether, for a plaything or what he chose to make of her, he would remind her of this evening.

“I am sorry,” he said, “that you do not like me, but that is because you are not used to men.  Presently you will know me better, and then I am sure it will be different.  As for you,” he continued, looking at her in a manner which he felt should certainly awaken some different feeling in her inexperienced heart, “I admire you very much indeed.  I have seen you only once or twice, but I have thought of you much.  Some day I hope that we shall be very much better friends.”

He leaned a little toward her, and Jeanne calmly removed herself a little further away.  She turned her head now to look at him, as she sat upright upon the sofa, very slim and graceful in her white gown.