ing at La Briere. "It could not be otherwise. Madame de La
Bastie is German. She has never adopted our etiquette, and I let my
two women lead me their own way. I have always preferred to sit in
the carriage rather than on the box. I can make a joke of all this at
present, for we have not yet seen the Duc d'Herouville, and I do not
believe in marriages arranged by proxy, any more than I believe in
choosing my daughter's husband."

"That declaration is equally encouraging and discouraging to two young
men who are searching for the philosopher's stone of happiness in
marriage," said Canalis.

"Don't you consider it useful, necessary, and even politic to stipulate
for perfect freedom of action for parents, daughters, and suitors?"
asked Charles Mignon.

Canalis, at a sign from La Briere, kept silence. The conversation
presently became unimportant, and after a few turns round the garden the
count retired, urging the visit of the two friends.

"That's our dismissal," cried Canalis; "you saw it as plainly as I did.
Well, in his place, I should not hesitate between the grand equerry and
either of us, charming as we are."

"I don't think so," said La Briere. "I believe that frank soldier came
here to satisfy his desire to see you, and to warn us of his neutrality
while receiving us in his house. Modeste, in love with your fame, and
misled by my person, stands, as it were, between the real and the ideal,
between poetry and prose. I am, unfortunately, the prose."

"Germain," said Canalis to the valet, who came to take away the coffee,
"order the carriage in half an hour. We will take a drive before we go
to the Chalet."

CHAPTER XVIII. A SPLENDID FIRST APPEARANCE

The two young men were equally impatient to see Modeste, but La Briere
dreaded the interview, while Canalis approached it with the confidence
of self-conceit. The eagerness with which La Briere had met the
father, and the flattery of his attention to the family pride of the
ex-merchant, showed Canalis his own maladroitness, and determined him to
select a special role. The great poet resolved to pretend indifference,
though all the while displaying his seductive powers; to appear to
disdain the young lady, and thus pique her self-love. Trained by
the handsome Duchesse de Chaulieu, he was bound to be worthy of his
reputation as a man who knew women, when, in fact, he did not know them
at all,--which is often the case with those who are the happy victims
of