There--adieu, twelve to-morrow!" And with this she laughed, waved her hand, gave the signal to drive on, and left me looking after the carriage, still irritated but already half consoled.
I then sauntered moodily on, thinking of my tyrant, and her caprices, and her beauty.

Her smile, for instance; surely it was the sweetest smile in the world--if only she were less lavish of it! Then, what a delicious little hand--if mine were the only lips permitted to kiss it! Why was she so charming ?--or why, being so charming, need she prize the attentions of every _flaneur_ who had only enough wit to admire her?
Was I not a fool to believe that she cared more for my devotion than for another's! Did I believe it?
Yes ...

no ...

sometimes.

But then that "sometimes" was only when under the immediate influence of her presence.
She fascinated me; but she would fascinate a hundred others in precisely the same way.