But it was plain whose daughter he had fixed his mind upon, and Alexis
Barbeau would not make any difficulty about parting with Celeste.
She had lived away from him so much since her childhood that he would
scarcely miss her; and it was better to have a daughter well settled
in New Orleans than hampered by a poor match in her native village.
And this was what Gabriel Chartrant was told when he made haste to
propose for Celeste about the same time.

"I have already accepted for my daughter much more gratifying offers
than any you can make. The banns will be put up next Sunday, and in
three weeks she will be Madame Beauvois."

When Celeste heard this she was beside herself. She used to tell my
mother that Monsieur Beauvois walked as if his natural gait was on all
fours, and he still took to it when he was not watched. His shoulders
were bent forward, his hands were in his pockets, and he studied the
ground. She could not endure him. But the customs were very strict in
the matter of marriage. No French girl in those days could be so bold
as to reject the husband her father picked, and own that she preferred
some one else. Celeste was taken home to get ready for her wedding.
She hung on my mother's neck when choosing her for a bridesmaid, and
neither of the girls could comfort the other. Madame Barbeau was a fat
woman who loved ease, and never interfered with Alexis. She would
be disturbed enough by settling her daughter without meddling about
bridegrooms. The grandfather and grandmother were sorry for Gabriel
Chartrant, and tearful over Celeste; still, when you are forming
an alliance for your child, it is very imprudent to disregard great
wealth and by preference give her to poverty. Their son Alexis
convinced them of this; and he had always prospered.