"
With anxious ostentation Manon displayed all her riches to excite
Victoire's envy.
"Confess, Victoire," said she at last, "that you think me the happiest
person you have ever known.--You do not answer; whom did you ever know
that was happier?"
"Sister Frances, who died last week, appeared to be much happier," said
Victoire.
"The poor nun!" said Manon, disdainfully. "Well, and whom do you think
the next happiest?"
"Madame de Fleury."
"An exile and a beggar!--Oh, you are jesting now, Victoire--or--envious.
With that sanctified face, citoyenne--perhaps I should say
Mademoiselle--Victoire you would be delighted to change places with me
this instant. Come, you shall stay with me a week to try how you like
it."
"Excuse me," said Victoire, firmly; "I cannot stay with you, Manon; you
have chosen one way of life and I another--quite another. I do not
repent my choice--may you never repent yours!--Farewell!"
"Bless me! what airs! and with what dignity she looks! Repent of my
choice!--a likely thing, truly. Am not I at the top of the wheel?"
"And may not the wheel turn?" said Victoire.
"Perhaps it may," said Manon; "but till it does I will enjoy myself.
Since you are of a different humour, return to Madame Feuillot, and
figure upon cambric and muslin, and make out bills, and nurse old nuns
all the days of your life. You will never persuade me, however, that you
would not change places with me if you could.
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