Meanwhile, the agreeable side of her position operated within her; she felt unable to keep up the show of anger that she had wished to assume.

The involuntary smile upon her lips smoothed her forehead as a ray of sun dissipates a cloud.

Thus, disposed to clemency by reflection or fascination, it was in a very sweet and coaxing voice that she said: "Octave, give me my slipper." Gerfaut gazed at the lovely face bent toward him with an expression of childish entreaty, then he glanced with an irresolute air at the trophy which he held in his hand.

This slipper, which was as small as Cinderella's, was not green, but gray, the lining was of rose-colored silk, and the whole was so pretty, coquettish, and dainty that it seemed impossible its owner could be vexed with him if he examined it closely.

"I will give it back to you," said he, at last, "on condition that you will allow me to put it on for you." "As to that, certainly not," said she, in a sharp tone; "I should much prefer to leave it with you and return home as I am." Gerfaut shook his head and smiled incredulously.
"Think of your delicate lungs and of this terrible mud ?" Clemence drew her foot suddenly back under her skirt, concealing it entirely from the sight of the young man, who gazed at it more than she thought proper.