not
ill-natured. Least of all was it scandalous, for the girls were always
there, Cousin Maria not having thought it in the least necessary, in
order to put herself in accord with French traditions, to relegate her
daughters to the middle distance. They occupied a considerable part of
the foreground, in the prettiest, most modest, most becoming attitudes.

It was Cousin Maria's theory of her own behaviour that she did in Paris
simply as she had always done; and though this would not have been a
complete account of the matter Raymond could not fail to notice the good
sense and good taste with which she laid down her lines and the quiet
_bonhomie_ of the authority with which she caused the tone of the
American home to be respected. Scandal stayed outside, not simply
because Effie and Tishy were there, but because, even if Cousin Maria
had received alone, she never would have received evil-speakers.
Indeed, for Raymond, who had been accustomed to think that in a general
way he knew pretty well what the French capital was, this was a strange,
fresh Paris altogether, destitute of the salt that seasoned it for most
palates, and yet not insipid nor innutritive. He marvelled at Cousin
Maria's air, in such a city, of knowing, of recognising nothing bad: all
the more that it represented an actual state of mind. He used to wonder
sometimes what she would do and how she would feel if some day, in
consequence of researches made by the Marquise in the _grand monde_, she
should find herself in possession of a son-in-law formed according to
one of the types of which _he_ had impressions. However, it was not
credible that Madame de Brives would play her a trick. There were
moments when Raymond almost wished she might--to see how Cousin Maria
would handle the gentleman.

Dora was almost always taken up by visitors, and he had scarcely any
direct conversation with her. She was there, and he was glad she was
there, and she knew he was glad (he knew that), but this was almost all
the communion he had with her. She was mild, exquisitely mild--this was
the term he mentally applied to her now--and it amply sufficed him, with
the conviction he had that she was not stupid. She attended to the tea
(for Mademoiselle Bourde was not always free), she handed the _petits
fours_, she rang the bell when people went out; and it was in connection
with these offices that the idea came to him once--he was rather ashamed
of it afterward--that she was the Ci