I went to bed. 'No, I won't ride out
to-day, I have a headache!' I repeated this about half-a-dozen times to
nobody's knocking on the door, and when at last somebody knocked I tried
to repeat it once, but having the message that Mr. Pollingray
particularly wished to have my company in a ride, I rose submissively and
cried. This humiliation made my temper ferocious. Mr. Pollingray observed
my face, and put it down in his notebook. 'A savage disposition,' or, no,
'An untamed little rebel'; for he has hopes of me. He had the cruelty to
say so.
'What I am, I shall remain,' said I.
He informed me that it was perfectly natural for me to think it; and on
my replying that persons ought to know themselves best: 'At my age,
perhaps,' he said, and added, 'I cannot speak very confidently of my
knowledge of myself.'
'Then you make us out to be nothing better than puppets, Mr. Pollingray.'
'If we have missed an early apprenticeship to the habit of self-command,
ma filleule.'
'Merci, mon parrain.'
He laughed.
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