at the foot of the bed.

"M. le Vicomte de Lamare has proposed for you," he said.

Jeanne would have liked to hide her head under the bed-clothes.

"We told him we must think over his proposal before we could give him an
answer," continued the baron, who was smiling. "We did not wish to
arrange anything without first consulting you; your mother and I made no
objection to the marriage, but at the same time we did not make any
promise. You are a great deal richer than he is, but when the happiness
of a life is at stake the question of money ought not to be considered.
He has no relations, so if you married him we should gain a son, whereas
if you married anyone else you would have to go among strangers, and we
should lose our daughter. We like the young fellow, but the question is,
do you like him?"

"I am quite willing to marry him, papa," she stammered out, blushing to
the roots of her hair.

The baron looked into her eyes, and said with a smile: "I thought as
much, mademoiselle."

Until that evening Jeanne hardly knew what she was doing. She went
through everything mechanically, feeling thoroughly worn out with
fatigue, although she had done nothing to tire her. The vicomte came
about six o'clock and found her sitting with her mother under the
plane-tree, and Jeanne's heart beat wildly as the young man came calmly
towards them. He kissed the baroness's fingers, then, raising the young
girl's trembling hand to his lips, he imprinted on it a long, tender
kiss of gratitude.

The happy betrothal time began. The young couple spent their days
sitting on the slope leading to the waste land beyond the wood, or
walking up and down the baroness's avenue, she with her eyes fixed on
the dusty track her mother's foot had made, he talking of the future.
Once the marriage agreed to, they wanted it to take place as soon as
possible, so it was decided that they should be married in six weeks'
time, on the 15th of August, and that they should start on their wedding
tour almost immediately afterwards. When Jeanne was asked to what
country she should like to go, she chose Corsica, where they would be
more alone than in Italy.

They awaited the time of their union without very much impatience,
vaguely desiring more passionate embraces, and yet satisfied with a
slight caress, a pressure of the hand, a gaze so long that each seemed
to read the other's heart through their eyes.

No one was to be asked to the wedding besides Aunt L