'If you can make her, you have more influence than I,' said Michel.
'Marie never sits, and never eats, and never drinks.' She was
standing now close behind her uncle with both her hands upon his
head; and she would often stand so after the supper was commenced,
only moving to attend upon him, or to supplement the services of
Peter and the maid-servant when she perceived that they were
becoming for a time inadequate to their duties. She answered her
uncle now by gently pulling his ears, but she said nothing.

'Sit down with us, Marie, to oblige me,' said Madame Voss.

'I had rather not, aunt. It is foolish to sit at supper and not
eat. I have taken my supper already.' Then she moved away, and
hovered round the two strangers at the end of the room. After
supper Michel Voss and the young man--Adrian Urmand by name--lit
their cigars and seated themselves on a bench outside the front
door. 'Have you never said a word to her?' said Michel.

'Well;--a word; yes.'

'But you have not asked her--; you know what I mean;--asked her
whether she could love you.'

'Well,--yes. I have said as much as that, but I have never got an
answer. And when I did ask her, she merely left me. She is not
much given to talking.'

'She will not make the worse wife, my friend, because she is not
much given to such talking as that. When she is out with me on a