Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"And what I certainly expect of you, monsieur."

"Well, yes, mademoiselle; seeing that you were the only person not dancing, I thought how dull it must be for you, and I resolved to engage you for the next quadrille. I hope my sincerity has not offended you, but you insisted – "

"Certainly, monsieur; and I am so grateful for your sincerity that if I dared – "

"Do not hesitate, I beg of you, mademoiselle."

"But no, however frank you may be, however great a lover of truth, your sincerity, I am sure, would not exceed certain limits – "

"Those you yourself prescribe, mademoiselle; no others."

"Are you in earnest?"

"I am, I assure you."

"The question I am about to put to you, monsieur, will seem so peculiar, so bold, perhaps."

"Then, mademoiselle, I shall tell you that it seems strange and bold, that is all."

"I don't think I shall ever dare – "

"Ah, mademoiselle, you seem to be afraid of frankness, in your turn," said Olivier, laughing.

"Say, rather, that I tremble for your sincerity; it will have to be so great, so rare, to stand my test."

"You need have no fears, I will vouch for it, mademoiselle."

"Well, monsieur, what do you think of my appearance?"

"Mademoiselle," stammered Olivier, who was not in the least prepared for such a brusque and embarrassing question; "really – I – "

"Ah, you see that you dare not say what you think, monsieur," exclaimed Ernestine, gaily. "But wait, to put you quite at your ease, let us suppose that on leaving this entertainment you should meet one of your friends, and in telling him about the young ladies you danced with, what would you say about me if you should happen to remember that I was one of your partners?"

"Well, mademoiselle," responded Olivier, who had partially recovered from his surprise, "I should merely say to my friend, 'I saw a young lady whom nobody asked to dance. This interested me in her, so I engaged her for the next quadrille, not supposing that our conversation would prove particularly interesting, for not knowing the young lady at all, I had nothing but commonplaces to say to her. But quite the contrary. Thanks to my partner, our conversation was extremely animated, and the time passed like a dream.'"

"And what if your friend should perhaps ask if this young lady was pretty or ugly?"

"I should say that I had not been able to distinguish her features very well from a distance," replied Olivier, intrepidly, "but on seeing her closer, and looking at her more attentively, and more particularly after I had heard her talk, I found her face so gentle and kind and characterised by such an expression of winning frankness that I ceased to think that she was not pretty. But I should add, still speaking to my friend, of course: 'Do not repeat these remarks made to you in confidence, for it is only women of great good sense and amiability who ask for, or forgive, sincerity.' It is consequently only to a very discreet friend that I should say this, mademoiselle."

"I thank you so much, monsieur. I am grateful, you have no idea how grateful, for your frankness," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, in such a sincere and earnest voice that Olivier, surprised and touched in spite of himself, gazed at the girl with lively interest.

Just then the dance ended, and Olivier took Ernestine back to Herminie, who was waiting for her; then, impressed by the singular character of the young girl with whom he had just danced, he withdrew himself a little apart to think over their strange conversation.

"You enjoyed yourself very much, did you not, Ernestine?" asked Herminie, affectionately. "I knew it by your face. You talked all the time you were dancing."

"M. Olivier is very pleasant; besides, knowing that you were so well acquainted with him made me feel perfect confidence in him at once."

"And he deserves it, I assure you, Ernestine. No one could have a better heart or a nobler character. His most intimate friend" – and the duchess blushed almost imperceptibly – "tells me that M. Olivier works like a slave at the most uncongenial employment in order to utilise his leave and assist his uncle, a retired officer of marines, crippled with wounds, who resides in this same house and has only his pension to live on."

"This doesn't surprise me at all, Herminie. I knew that M. Olivier must have a kind heart."

"He is as brave as a lion, too, with it all. His friend, who served in the same regiment, has told me of many deeds of wonderful valour on M. Olivier's part."

"That seems only natural to me. I have always believed that good and kind-hearted people were the bravest," replied Ernestine. "You, for example, must be very courageous, Herminie."

The conversation between the two young girls was again interrupted by a young man, who, after interchanging a quick glance with Herminie, politely invited Ernestine to dance.

Mlle. de Beaumesnil saw the look, and it made her blush and smile. Nevertheless, she made an engagement to dance the next quadrille, but as soon as the young man had walked away Ernestine gaily remarked to her new friend:

"You are making me a very dangerous person, my dear Herminie."

"Why do you say that, Ernestine?"

"That invitation I just received – "

"Well, what of it?"

"Was all your work."

"Mine?"

"Yes, you said to yourself, 'This poor Ernestine must, at least, dance twice during the evening. Everybody is not as kind-hearted as M. Olivier, but I am queen here, and I will give orders to one of my subjects.'"

But just then Queen Herminie's subject came to say that the quadrille was forming.

"Good-bye, Madame Sybil," exclaimed Herminie, shaking her finger threateningly at Mlle. de Beaumesnil. "I'll teach you not to be so proud of your wonderful powers of divination."

The young girl had scarcely walked away with her partner before Olivier came up, and, seating himself beside the duchess, said:

"Who is that young girl I just danced with?"

"An orphan who supports herself by her embroidery, M. Olivier, and who is not very happy, I think, for you can not imagine the touching way in which she thanked me for my attention this evening. It was this that made us friends so quickly, for I never saw her until to-night."

"That is what she meant, I suppose, by speaking so artlessly of what she called your compassion, and mine."

"Poor child! She must have been very unkindly treated, and is still, perhaps, to make her so grateful for the slightest show of interest."

"Hers is certainly a very original character. You can't imagine what a strange question she asked me, imploring me to be perfectly frank all the while."

"No, I can not."

"Well, she asked me whether I thought her pretty or ugly."

"What a strange child! And what did you answer?"

"I told her the truth, as she insisted."

"What! M. Olivier, did you really tell her that she wasn't pretty?"