In spite of the melancholy which oppressed me, I could not help smiling at the playful imagination of Agnes: She had perfectly preserved Dame Cunegonda’s resemblance, but had so much exaggerated every fault, and rendered every feature so irresistibly laughable, that I could easily conceive the Duenna’s anger.
‘The figure is admirable, my dear Agnes! I knew not that you possessed such talents for the ridiculous.’
‘Stay a moment,’ She replied; ‘I will show you a figure still more ridiculous than Dame Cunegonda’s. If it pleases you, you may dispose of it as seems best to yourself.’
She rose, and went to a Cabinet at some little distance. Unlocking a drawer, She took out a small case, which She opened, and presented to me.
‘Do you know the resemblance?’ said She smiling.
It was her own.
