ly, disgusted
by the abrupt contradiction she had received, concerning her opinion of
Valancourt's merit. 'You will, perhaps, doubt it,' said Madame Cheron,
'when I assure you, that it was only this morning that I rejected his
suit.' This was said without any intention of imposing the meaning it
conveyed, but simply from a habit of considering herself to be the most
important person in every affair that concerned her niece, and because
literally she had rejected Valancourt. 'Your reasons are indeed such as
cannot be doubted,' replied the lady, with an ironical smile. 'Any more
than the discernment of the Chevalier Valancourt,' added Cavigni, who
stood by the chair of Madame Cheron, and had heard her arrogate to
herself, as he thought, a distinction which had been paid to her niece.
'His discernment MAY be justly questioned, Signor,' said Madame Cheron,
who was not flattered by what she understood to be an encomium on Emily.

'Alas!' exclaimed Cavigni, surveying Madame Cheron with affected
ecstasy, 'how vain is that assertion, while that face--that shape--that
air--combine to refute it! Unhappy Valancourt! his discernment has been
his destruction.'

Emily looked surprised and embarrassed; the lady, who had lately
spoke, astonished, and Madame Cheron, who, though she did not perfectly
understand this speech, was very ready to believe herself complimented
by it, said smilingly, 'O Signor! you are very gallant; but those, who
hear you vindicate the Chevalier's discernment, will suppose that I am
the object of it.'

'They cannot doubt it,' replied Cavigni, bowing low.

'And would not that be very mortifying, Signor?'

'Unquestionably it would,' said Cavigni.

'I cannot endure the thought,' said Madame Cheron.

'It is not to be endured,' replied Cavigni.

'What can be done to prevent so humiliating a mistake?' rejoined Madame
Cheron.

'Alas! I cannot assist you,' replied Cavigni, with a deliberating
air. 'Your only chance of refuting the calumny, and of making people
understand what you wish them to believe, is to persist in your
first assertion; for, when they are told of the Chevalier's want of
discernment, it is possible they may suppose he never presumed to
distress you with his admiration.--But then again--that diffidence,
which renders you so insensible to your own perfections--they will
consider this, and Valancourt's taste will not be doubted, though you
arraign it. In short, they will, in spite of your end