You are
all so nice, messieurs, that it is impossible for me to say whom I
love most."
The young men laughed.
"And you, Mademoiselle de Rohan, will you confess?"
"Oh, I am quite different," she said. "I quite know whom I love
best, but just as I am quite sure about it, he does something
disagreeable or stupid--all men are really disagreeable or stupid
when you get to know them--and so then I try another, but it is
always with the same result."
"You are all very cruel," the Duc de Carolan laughed. "And you,
Mademoiselle de Pignerolles? But I know what you will say, you have
never seen anyone worth loving."
Adele did not answer; but her laughing friends insisted that as
they had confessed their inmost thoughts, she ought to do the same.
For a moment she looked serious, then she laughed, and again put on
a demure air.
"Yes," said she, "I have had a grande passion, but it came to
nothing."
A murmur of "Impossible!" ran round the circle.
"It was nearly four years ago," she said.
"Oh, nonsense, Adele, you were a child four years ago," one of her
companions said.
"Of course I was a child," Adele said, "but I suppose children can
love, and I loved an English boy."
"Oh, oh, mademoiselle, an English boy!" and other amused cries ran
round the circle.
"And did he love you, mademoiselle?" the Duc de Carolan asked.
"Oh, dear no," the girl answered. "I don't suppose I should have
loved him if he had.
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