Chapter Text
Providence has once again bent her gently smiling beams
My way. When I visited Madame de Bourgh and told her
Of my indecision whether to go north or south, she begged
Me to accompany her niece, Miss Sophie Ferral, to Copenhagen.
She's a sensible girl of 24 who lately turned down a Russian
With 2000 a year, leaving her aunt, nonplussed, to send her home.
<In the carriage, I sit writing contentedly in my journal,
Aware of the young lady's eyes flickering over me, out the window,
Back. So unlike Ann and her relations, this girl wears scarlet
Unashamedly. Apropos of nothing, or possibly suspecting
What I was writing about, she says, "He was twenty years older
Than me. I told her I would only ever marry for love. But then
She said I was naive. What do you think, Miss Lister? Do you
Think I'm pretty?" I feel like Lord Jesus being cornered, asked
Trick questions by the Pharisees. This girl has not learned
Subtlety, unlike me. I say, "I think you dress prettily." "Yes,"
She says, "but me. I've seen you looking at me." Caught!
I turn it round. "I've seen you looking at me." She smiles,
Admitting, "Well you are very unusual to look at." And that
Made me pause. Another feminine woman who thinks
She knows me, who finds me a specimen to observe, although
In contrast to Marianna, this Sophie seems fascinated rather
Than appalled. I cannot share my secret with her, no. And yet,
Shall I not flirt with her, a little, and carefully? Steady we go...>