"A gros bonnet of some kind; a professor or a deputy."

"I am very sorry for the poor girl," I said, laughing.

"You needn't pity her too much; she's a sly thing."

"Ah, for that, no!" I exclaimed. "She's a charming girl."

Madame Beaurepas gave an elderly grin. "She has hooked you, eh? But
the mother won't have you."

I developed my idea, without heeding this insinuation. "She's a
charming girl, but she is a little odd. It's a necessity of her
position. She is less submissive to her mother than she has to
pretend to be. That's in self-defence; it's to make her life
possible."

"She wishes to get away from her mother," continued Madame Beaurepas.
"She wishes to courir les champs."

"She wishes to go to America, her native country."

"Precisely. And she will certainly go."

"I hope so!" I rejoined.

"Some fine morning--or evening--she will go off with a young man;
probably with a young American."