"I am not like a doll. And how do you know whether I'm interesting or not. You look upon me only as the bad husband of the good sister."
He cast a slightly sulky glance upon her from his dark eyes…eyes exactly like Ernestine's, deep and long-lashed. No, he was not doll-like. His forehead was broad and beautifully modelled, his nose strongly masculine; a short pointed beard and moustache hid the mouth and chin.
"No, not bad," she smiled. "Not serious enough to be bad. Only frivolous."
"Well, why not be frivolous, as you call it, though I am serious enough sometimes. … I suppose you mean I do no work, but what should I work at, and why work, anyway? What is there to do? Il ne faut pas beaucoup pour passer la vie."
"Beaucoup? Beaucoup des petites choses—pour vous …"
"Oh, well, what is the difference, after all—big things and little things? It is important to pass one's life as agreeably as possible—voilà tout."
"Even at the expense of other people."
"Somebody must pay the bills," said Ernesto blandly. "But after all one sees that they get something for their money, too. My pleasure is to give pleasure to other people. It is not my fault if the capacity for pleasure is limited."
