Desmond broke into a laugh.

"My dear O'Sullivan," he said, "it seems to me that it is the
favourite dream of Irish soldiers of fortune, that they may
improve their circumstances by marriage."

"Well, there is no easier or more pleasant way," his friend said,
stoutly.

"Possibly I may come to think so, in another ten years," Desmond
went on, "but, at present, I have no more thought of marrying than
I have of becoming king of France. The idea is altogether absurd,
and it happens to be particularly so, in the present case, since
one of the objects of my going down to Pointdexter is that I may
be present at the formal betrothal of this young lady, to Monsieur
de la Vallee, a neighbour of theirs, whom I had the pleasure of
meeting this afternoon, and to whom she is tenderly attached."

"By the powers, but that is unlucky, Kennedy!" O'Neil said; "and I
have been thinking that your fortune was made, and that the
regiment would soon lose you, as you would, of course, settle down
as a magnate in Languedoc; and now, it seems that what we thought
the proper sequence of your adventure, is not to come off, after
all. Well, lad, I congratulate you on putting a good face on it,
and hiding your disappointment."

"What nonsense you talk!" Desmond said, laughing. "It is you who
have been building castles, not I, and it is your disappointment
that they have fallen to pieces."