"And when is the event to take place?" I inquired, more eagerly than I
chose to acknowledge. This was by no means the sort of enchantress that
I had been seeking, you understand.
"In the spring," she said. "Look at the ring he has given to me,
monsieur; is it not beautiful?"
I remarked that Louise's hands were very well shaped; and, indeed,
happiness had brought a certain charm to her face.
"Do you know, Louise, that I am sorry that you are going to marry?" I
exclaimed.
"Oh, get out!" she laughed, pushing me away. "It is no good your
talking nonsense to me now, don't flatter yourself!"
Pouchin, the sculptor, happened to come in at that moment. "Sapristi!"
he shouted; "what changes are to be seen! The nose of our brave
Silvestre is out of joint now that we are affianced, hein?"
She joined in his laughter against me, and I picked up my brush again
in a vile humour.
Well, as I have said, she was not the kind of woman that I had
contemplated, but these things arrange themselves--I became seriously
enamoured of her. And, recognising that Fate works with her own
instruments, I did not struggle. For months I was at Louise's heels; I
was the sport of her whims, and her slights, sometimes even of her
insults. I actually made her an offer of marriage, at which she snapped
her white fingers with a grimace--and the more she flouted me, the more
fascinated I grew. In that rapturous hour when her insolent eyes
softened to sentiment, when her mocking mouth melted to a kiss, I was
in Paradise.
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