blind with chance.'

He started up in agitation. 'Lucie! I am a grinning skull without a
brain if that girl refuses! She will not.' He took his hat to leave,
adding, to seem rational to the cool understanding he addressed: 'She
will not refuse; I am bound to think so in common respect for myself; I
have done tricks to make me appear a rageing ape if she--oh! she cannot,
she will not refuse. Never! I have eyes, I have wits, I am not
tottering yet on my grave--or it's blindly, if I am. I have my clear
judgement, I am not an imbecile. It seems to me a foolish suspicion that
she can possibly refuse. Her manners are generally good; freakish, but
good in the main. Perhaps she takes a sting . . . but there is no
sting here. It would be bad manners to refuse; to say nothing of . . .
she has a heart! Well, then, good manners and right feeling forbid her
to refuse. She is an exceedingly intelligent girl, and I half fear I
have helped you to a wrong impression of her. You will really appreciate
her wit; you will indeed; believe me, you will. We pardon nonsense in a
girl. Married, she will put on the matron with becoming decency, and I
am responsible for her then; I stand surety for her then; when I have her
with me I warrant her mine and all mine, head and heels, at a whistle,
like the Cossack's horse. I fancy that at forty I am about as young as
most young men. I promise her another forty manful working years. Are
you dubious of that?'

'I nod to you from the palsied summit of ninety,' said the baroness.

Alvan gave a short laugh and stammered excuses for his naked egoism,
comparing himself to a forester who has sharpened such an appetite in
toiling to slay his roe that he can think of nothing but the fire
preparing the feast.