The Cure was so taken aback that at first he could not speak. When he
realised, however, he could scarce suppress a smile at the other's simple
vanity. But he mastered himself, and said: "It is not that, Maurice. It
is not you."

"How did you know I had asked her?" asked his friend querulously.

"You have just told me."

M. Rossignol felt a kind of reproval in the Cure's tone. It made him a
little nervous. "I'm an old fool, but she needed some one," he
protested. "At least I am a gentleman, and she would not be thrown
away."

"Dear Maurice!" said the Cure, and linked his arm in the other's. "In
all respects save one, it would have been to her advantage. But youth is
the only comrade for youth. All else is evasion of life's laws."

The Seigneur pressed his arm. "I thought you less worldly-wise than
myself; I find you more," he said.

"Not worldly-wise. Life is deeper than the world or worldly wisdom.
Come, we will both go and see Rosalie."

M. Rossignol suddenly stopped at the post-office door, and half turned
towards the tailor-shop. "He is young. Suppose that he drew her love
his way, but gave her nothing in return, and--"

"If it were so"--the Cure paused, and his face darkened--"if it were so,
he should leave her forever; and so my dream would end."