Her name was Jeanne, and she was the youngest member of a naval2 officer's family, that like the D——-s had been bound up in friendship with ours for more than a century. As she was two or three years younger than I, I had at first taken but little notice of her—probably I thought her too babyish.
Her face was as droll3 as a little kitten's, and it was impossible to tell from the pinched up features whether she would become pretty or ugly; but she had a certain grace, and when she was eight or nine years old her face became very sweet and charming. She was very roguish, and as friendly as I was diffident; and as she darted4 about in those childish dances we sometimes had in the evenings, and from which I held myself aloof5, she seemed to me the extreme of worldly elegance6 and coquetry.
But in spite of the great intimacy7 between our families, it was evident that her parents looked upon our friendship with disfavor, they probably thought it unseemly that she had chosen a boy for her companion. This knowledge caused me much suffering, and the impressions of my childhood were so vivid and persistent8 that I did not, until many years had passed, until I became quite a grown youth, pardon her father and mother the humiliation9 they had caused me.
It therefore resulted that my desire to play with her increased greatly. And she, knowing this, was as perverse10 as a princess in a fairy tale; she laughed mercilessly at my timid ways, at my awkward manners and my ungraceful fashion of entering the parlor11; there was kept up between us a constant interchange of playful raillery, an oral stream of inimitable pleasantry.
When I was invited to spend the day with her the prospect12 gave me the greatest joy, but the aftertaste of the visit was generally bitter, for usually I committed some
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