Flemish chaussées in a pair of Paris brodequins, on m’en dirait des nouvelles!”
“Never mind Mons and Leuze, and the Flemish chaussées; do at Rome as the Romans do; and as to the camisole and jupon, I am not quite sure about them either. I never see an English lady dressed in such garments. Ask Caroline Helstone.”
“Caroline! I ask Caroline? I consult her about my dress? It is she who on all points should consult me; she is a child.”
“She is eighteen, or at the least seventeen; old enough to know all about gowns, petticoats, and chaussures.”
“Do not spoil Caroline, I entreat you, brother; do not make her of more consequence than she ought to be. At present she is modest and unassuming: let us keep her so.”
“With all my heart. Is she coming this morning?”
“She will come at ten, as usual, to take her French lesson.”
“You don’t find that she sneers at you, do you?”
“She does not, she appreciates me better than any one else here; but then she has more intimate opportunities of knowing me: she sees that I have education, intelligence, manner, principles; all, in short, which belongs to a person well-born and well-bred.”
“Are you at all fond of her?”
“For fond—I cannot say: I am not one who is prone to take violent fancies, and, consequently, my
