'
All her vivacity instantaneously returned.
'Pooh!' she cried, dancing round in front of me, and standing there
directly in my path, so that I came to a stand. 'Pooh!' she repeated,
snapping her fingers, with an inimitable gesture of that lovely hand.
'Monsieur Valmont, I am disappointed in you. You are not nearly so
nice as you were last evening. It is very uncomplimentary in you to
intimate that when once I am married to Mr. Jonas I shall not wheedle
from him all the money I want. Do not rest your eyes on the ground;
look at me and answer!'
I glanced up at her, and could not forbear laughing. The witchery of
the wood was in that girl; yes, and a perceptible trace of the Gallic
devil flickered in those enchanting eyes of hers. I could not help
myself.
'Ah, Madame la Marquise de Bellairs, how jauntily you would scatter
despair in that susceptible Court of Louis!'
'Ah, Monsieur Eugene de Valmont,' she cried, mimicking my tones, and
imitating my manner with an exactitude that amazed me, 'you are once
more my dear de Valmont of last night. I dreamed of you, I assure you
I did, and now to find you in the morning, oh, so changed!' She
clasped her little hands and inclined her head, while the sweet voice
sank into a cadence of melancholy which seemed so genuine that the
mocking ripple of a laugh immediately following was almost a shock to
me.
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