But despite all her regard for
him, the idea that he loved her chilled her to the soul.

Meanwhile the Abbe had again begun walking from one to the other end
of the room, and on passing the dining-room door he gently called
Helene. "Come here and look!"

She rose and did as he wished.

Monsieur Rambaud had ended by seating Jeanne in his own chair; and he,
who had at first been leaning against the table, had now slipped down
at the child's feet. He was on his knees before her, encircling her
with one of his arms. On the table was the carriage drawn by the
chicken, with some boats, boxes, and bishops' mitres.

"Now, do you love me well?" he asked her. "Tell me that you love me
well!"

"Of course, I love you well; you know it."

He stammered and trembled, as though he were making some declaration
of love.

"And what would you say if I asked you to let me stay here with you
always?"

"Oh, I should be quite pleased. We would play together, wouldn't we?
That would be good fun."

"Ah, but you know I should always be here."

Jeanne had taken up a boat which she was twisting into a gendarme's
hat. "You would need to get mamma's leave," she murmured.

By this reply all his fears were again stirred into life. His fate was
being decided.

"Of course," said he. "But if mamma gave me leave, would you say yes,
too?"

Jeanne, busy finishing her gendarme's hat, sang out in a rapturous
strain: "I would say yes! yes! yes! I would say yes! yes! yes! Come,
look how pretty my hat is!"

Monsieur Rambaud, with tears in his eyes, rose to his knees and kissed
her, while she threw her arms round his neck. He had entrusted the
asking of Helene's consent to his brother, whilst he himself sought to
secure that of Jeanne.

"You see," said the priest, with a smile, "the child is quite
content."

Helene still retained her grave air, and made no further inquiry. The
Abbe, however, again eloquently took up his plea, and emphasized his
brother's good qualities. Was he not a treasure-trove of a father for
Jeanne? She was well acquainted with him; in trusting him she gave no
hostages to fortune. Then, as she still remained silent, the Abbe with
great feeling and dignity declared that in the step he had taken he
had not thought of his brother, but of her and her happiness.

"I believe you; I know how you love me," Helene promptly answered.
"Wait; I want to give your brother his answer in your presence."

The clock struck ten. Monsi