into society only for that too.

"You know at school how we used to _tirer la bonne aventure._[1] Well,
every time he was not _brun, riche, avenant_, Jules, or Raoul, or Guy,
I simply would not accept it, but would go on drawing until I obtained
what I wanted. As I tell you, I thought it was my destiny. And when I
would try with a flower to see if he loved me,--_Il m'aime, un peu,
beaucoup, passionément, pas du tout_,--if it were _pas du tout_, I
would always throw the flower away, and begin tearing off the leaves
from another one immediately. _Passionément_ was what I wanted, and I
always got it in the end.

[Footnote 1: _La bonne aventure_ is or was generally a very much
battered foolscap copy-book, which contained a list of all possible
elements of future (school-girl) happiness. Each item answered a
question, and had a number affixed to it. To draw one's fortune
consisted in asking question after question, and guessing a number,
a companion volunteering to read the answers. To avoid cheating, the
books were revised from time to time, and the numbers changed.]

"But papa, poor papa, he never knew anything of that, of course. He
would get furious when any one would come to see me, and sometimes,
when he would take me in society, if I danced with a 'nobody,'--as he
called no matter whom I danced with,--he would come up and take me
away with such an air--such an air! It would seem that papa thought
himself better than everybody in the world. But it went worse and
worse with papa, not only in the affairs of the world, but in health.
Always thinner and thinner, always a cough; in fact, you know, I am a
little feeble-chested myself, from papa. And Clementine! Clementine
with her children--just think, Louise, eight! I thank God my mama had