Paris: The Novel

also an excuse. I think de Cygne is taking you all to Versailles so that he can discreetly get to see more of you.”
    “Do you know this?”
    “No. But I think it is likely, and so does your mother. I think, quite simply, that he wishes to get to know you better. Have you any objection?”
    “No, Papa.”
    “Do you like him?”
    “He was rather severe about Captain Dreyfus.”
    “A lot of people are getting far more angry about this Dreyfus affair than he was. Do you find him agreeable in other ways?”
    “It is too early to say, Papa.”
    “That is fair. You and he may find you have nothing in common. But if you do come to know each other better, and if one day he were to make a proposal, you would have to consider carefully. It would be a marriage which, socially, many people would envy. But I do not wish you to consider that at all. There should be no question of your marrying a man for whom you do not feel affection. You would also have to consider that his way of life and his attitudes are different from ours. I know and like his father, who is a charming man. But he is an aristocrat. In a sense, he isapart from even a rich family like ours. He does not consider himself the same kind of human being as a Blanchard. Under the charm and good manners of almost all the aristocrats I know, there is a certain snobbishness, even a coldness toward the rest of humanity. Not always, but often. Keep these thoughts in your mind and use your judgment. No one can do this for you.”
    “Yes, Papa,” she said.

    Versailles had been a success. She felt that she’d done herself credit, and she was fairly sure that de Cygne had been impressed with her. And the little walk in the Galerie des Glaces had been a triumph.
    She only did it because of him. He must find me very straitlaced, she thought. They say the women in America are much more free in their manners than well-brought-up women are in France. I’m sure he thinks me dull.
    So she’d seized the opportunity to do something a little unusual. De Cygne and Fox had certainly admired her performance. He hadn’t said anything. She’d hoped he would, but he hadn’t, which was vexing.
    So she’d have to try something else to get his attention, next time they met. But when would that be? She wondered if she could suggest some expedition to Marc, without letting him guess her purpose of course. That would be too embarrassing. But she hadn’t seen Marc for over a week. There seemed to be a coldness between Marc and her father, though she had no idea why.
    She found a book on America in her father’s library, and read that. It was all about great spaces, and railways across the plains, and the huge opportunities for the continent’s future trade. She read it all, and she made notes of questions she could ask the American when they did meet. Questions that would show that she wasn’t just a pretty rich girl without a thought in her head.
    Once her father came upon her reading the book and asked her with surprise what she was doing.
    “When I met that American friend of Marc’s,” she said, “he seemed quite nice, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to him, because I know almost nothing about America. I found the book in your library.”
    “Well, it’s a good book, but hardly women’s reading,” he remarked witha smile. “If we go to the bookshop, I’m sure we can find you something more amusing.”
    “You could buy me a book and surprise me,” she suggested. “But there’s no hurry.”
    After all, it wasn’t as if she was going to marry Hadley. That was quite impossible.

    It wasn’t often that Éloïse Blanchard received a message from her brother asking for her advice. Naturally, she came at once.
    “What do you think of Roland de Cygne?” he asked, as they sat alone in the salon.
    “He’s all right in his way. I haven’t much in common with him, myself.”
    “And if he married Marie and made her happy?”
    “I should try to like him—if he made her happy. Why? Is he going to?”
    “Not at present, it seems. I have just had a letter from him, with the sad news that his father suddenly died. There will be something in the newspapers tomorrow, he thinks.” Jules paused a moment. “Given my friendship with his father, I might have expected to receive a
faire-part
announcement in due course, but he was under no obligation to write to me like this.”
    “Perhaps, with Marie in mind …”
    “The thought occurred to me. Including her