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tian, monsieur.’
Her host dropped his eyes as well; but it was probable
that the movement had in each case a different spring. ‘Yes,
and what else?’
He watched the lady from the convent, probably think-
ing she would say that a good Christian was everything; but
for all her simplicity she was not so crude as that. ‘A charm-
ing young lady—a real little woman—a daughter in whom
you will have nothing but contentment.’
‘She seems to me very gentille,’ said the father. ‘She’s re-
ally pretty.’
‘She’s perfect. She has no faults.’
‘She never had any as a child, and I’m glad you have giv-
en her none.’
‘We love her too much,’ said the spectacled sister with
dignity. ‘And as for faults, how can we give what we have
not? Le couvent n’est pas comme le monde, monsieur. She’s
our daughter, as you may say. We’ve had her since she was
so small.’
‘Of all those we shall lose this year she’s the one we shall
miss most,’ the younger woman murmured deferentially.
‘Ah, yes, we shall talk long of her,’ said the other. ‘We
shall hold her up to the new ones.’ And at this the good
sister appeared to find her spectacles dim; while her com-
panion, after fumbling a moment, presently drew forth a
pocket-handkerchief of durable texture.
‘It’s not certain you’ll lose her; nothing’s settled yet,’ their
host rejoined quickly; not as if to anticipate their tears, but
in the tone of a man saying what was most agreeable to him-

326 The Portrait of a Lady