a thing as man, and to remain true to the government?" he continued.

"If I wished to marry a man, I should not let the government stand in my
way," she said, in brave confusion.

"But do you wish to marry any man?" he asked abruptly, even petulantly.

"I have not asked myself that question, Monsieur, and--should you ask it,
unless--" she said, and paused with as pretty and whimsical a glance of
merriment as could well be.

He burst out laughing at the swift turn she had given her reply, and at
the double suggestion. Then he suddenly changed. A curious expression
filled his eyes. A smile, almost beautiful, came to his lips.

"'Pon my honour," he said, in a low tone, "you have me caught! And I beg
to say--I beg to say," he added, with a flush mounting in his own face, a
sudden inspiration in his look, "that if you do not think me too old and
crabbed and ugly, and can endure me, I shall be profoundly happy if you
will marry me, Rosalie."

He stood upright, holding himself very hard, for this idea had shot into
his mind all in an instant, though, unknown to himself, it had been
growing for years, cherished by many a kind act to her father and by a
simple gratitude on her part. He had spoken without feeling the
absurdity of the proposal. He had never married, and he was unprepared
to make any statement on such a theme; but now, having made it somehow,
he would stand by it, in spite of any and all criticism. He had known
Rosalie since her birth, her education was as good as a convent could
secure, she was the granddaughter of a notable seigneur, and here she