in their power to make you comfortable," the marquis said.

The last words were spoken sharply and significantly, and their
tone was not lost upon the two boys; they had a moment before been
struggling to prevent themselves bursting into a laugh at Harry's
reception of their mother's greeting, but they now instantly composed
their faces and advanced.

"Shake hands with him," the marquis said sharply; "it is the custom
of his country."

Each in turn held out his hand to Harry, who, as he shook hands
with them, took a mental stock of his future companions.

"Good looking," he said to himself, "but more like girls than boys.
A year in the fifth form would do them a world of good. I could
polish the two off together with one hand."

"My daughters," the marquis said, "Mesdemoiselles Marie, Jeanne,
and Virginie."

Three young ladies had risen from their seats as their father
entered, each made a deep curtsy as her name was mentioned, and
Harry bowed deeply in return. Mademoiselle Marie was two years at
least older than himself, and was already a young lady of fashion.
Jeanne struck him as being about the same age as his sister Fanny,
who was between fourteen and fifteen. Virginie was a child of ten.
Ernest was about his own age, while Jules came between the two
younger girls.