"Of course not," said she. "One does not wish to find men if she is hunting for—for—" she hesitated a moment, blushing—"mon Dieu! for bears," she added.
I thought then, as her beautiful eyes looked up at me smiling, that she was incomparable, that I loved her above all others—I felt sure of it.
"And why do you hunt bears?" I inquired.
"I do not know. I think it is because they are so—so beautiful, so amiable!" she answered.
"And such good companions."
"Yes; they never embarrass you," she went on. "You never feel at loss for a word."
"I fear you do not know bears."
"Dieu! better than men. Voila!" she exclaimed, touching me with the end of her parasol. "You are not so terrible. I do not think you would bite."
"No; I have never bitten anything but—but bread and doughnuts, or something of that sort."
"Come, I desire to intimidate you. Won't you please be afraid of me? Indeed, I can be very terrible. See! I have sharp teeth."
