"Why, stupid, he comes to ask my hand in marriage."

"Good God!" said Andre-Louis, and stared at her, chapfallen.

She drew back from him a little with a frown and an upward tilt of her
chin. "It surprises you?"

"It disgusts me," said he, bluntly. "In fact, I don't believe it. You
are amusing yourself with me."

For a moment she put aside her visible annoyance to remove his doubts.
"I am quite serious, monsieur. There came a formal letter to my uncle
this morning from M. de La Tour d'Azyr, announcing the visit and its
object. I will not say that it did not surprise us a little..."

"Oh, I see," cried Andre-Louis, in relief. "I understand. For a moment I
had almost feared..." He broke off, looked at her, and shrugged.

"Why do you stop? You had almost feared that Versailles had been wasted
upon me. That I should permit the court-ship of me to be conducted like
that of any village wench. It was stupid of you. I am being sought in
proper form, at my uncle's hands."

"Is his consent, then, all that matters, according to Versailles?"

"What else?"

"There is your own."

She laughed. "I am a dutiful niece... when it suits me."

"And will it suit you to be dutiful if your uncle accepts this monstrous
proposal?"

"Monstrous!" She bridled. "And why monstrous, if you please?"

"For a score of reasons," he answered irritably.

"Give me one," she challenged him.

"He is twice your age."

"Hardly so much," said she.

"He is forty-five, at least."

"But he looks no more than thirty. He is very handsome--so much you will
admit; nor will you deny that he is very wealthy and very powerful; the
greatest nobleman in Brittany. He will make me a great lady."

"God made you that, Aline."

"Come, that's better. Sometimes you can almost be polite." And she moved
along the terrace, Andre-Louis pacing beside her.

"I can be more than that to show reason why you should not let this
beast befoul the beautiful thing that God has made."

She frowned, and her lips tightened. "You are speaking of my future
husband," she reproved him.

His lips tightened too; his pale face grew paler.

"And is it so? It is settled, then? Your uncle is to agree? You are to
be sold thus, lovelessly, into bondage to a man you do not know. I had
dreamed of better things for you, Aline."

"Better than to be Marquise de La Tour d'Azyr?"

He made a gesture of exasperation. "Are men and women nothing more than
names? Do the souls of them co