CHAPTER XL
QUEEN MARGUERITE
Letters of a Portuguese Nun.
Julien reread his letters. "How ridiculous I must have appeared in the eyes of that Parisian doll," he said to himself when the dinner-bell rang. "How foolish to have really told her what I was thinking! Perhaps it was not so foolish. Telling the truth on that occasion was worthy of me. Why did she come to question me on personal matters? That question was indiscreet on her part. She broke the convention. My thoughts about Danton are not part of the sacrifice which her father pays me to make."
When he came into the dining-room Julien's thoughts were distracted from his bad temper by mademoiselle de la Mole's mourning which was all the more striking because none of the other members of the family were in black.
After dinner he felt completely rid of the feeling which had obsessed him all day. Fortunately the academician who knew Latin was at dinner. "That's the man who will make the least fun of me," said Julien to himself, "if, as I surmise, my question about mademoiselle de la Mole's mourning is in bad taste."
Mathilde was looking at him with a singular expression. "So this is the coquetry of the women of this part of the country, just as madame de Rênal described it to me," said Julien to himself. "I was not nice to her this morning. I did not humour her caprice of talking to me. I got up in value in her eyes. The Devil doubtless is no loser by it.
"Later on her haughty disdain will manage to revenge herself. I defy her to do her worst. What a contrast with what
