He expected that Jean would offer some further explanation of
the unusual accomplishment which his daughter had acquired; but he
was silent, and Zachariah rose to depart, for it was eleven o'clock.
Jean apparently was a little restless at the absence of approval on
Zachariah's part, and at last he said abruptly:
"What do you think of her?"
Zachariah hesitated, and Pauline came to the rescue. "Father, what a
shame! Don't put him in such an awkward position."
"It was very wonderful," stammered Zachariah, "but we are not used to
that kind of thing."
"Who are the 'we'?" said Pauline. "Ah, of course you are Puritans.
I am a--what do you call it?--a daughter, no, that isn't it--a child
of the devil. I won't have that though. My father isn't the devil.
Even YOU wouldn't say that, Mr. Coleman. Ah, I have no business to
joke, you look so solemn; you think my tricks are satanic; but what
was it in your book, 'C'est moi, l'Eternel, qui fais toutes les
choses la'?" and as Zachariah advanced to the doors he made him a bow
with a grace which no lady of quality could have surpassed.
He walked home with many unusual thoughts. It was the first time he
had ever been in the company of a woman of any liveliness of
temperament, and with an intellect which was on equal terms with that
of a man.
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