with fortune, my only stake against her favours is my life. I feel as if
it were my duty to see that Mademoiselle is not left alone and friendless
in the world at my decease. I have in my mind for her a husband that I
think in every way suitable: a handsome and brave young fellow in my
battalion, of respectable birth, without any living relations to consult
as to his choice. I have reason to believe that if Julie married him,
she need never fear as a reproach to her antecedents. Her dot would
suffice to enable him to realise his own wish of a country town in
Normandy. And in that station, Paris and its temptations would soon pass
from the poor child's thoughts, as an evil dream. But I cannot dispose
of her hand without her own consent; and if she is to be reasoned out of
her fancy for you, I have no time to devote to the task. I come to the
point, You are not the man I would choose for her husband. But,
evidently, you are the man she would choose. Are you disposed to marry
her? You hesitate, very naturally; I have no right to demand an
immediate answer to a question so serious. Perhaps you will think over
it, and let me know in a day or two? I take it for granted that if you
were, as I heard, engaged before the siege to marry the Signora Cicogna,
that engagement is annulled?"

"Why take it for granted?" asked Gustave, perplexed. "Simply because I
find you here. Nay, spare explanations and excuses. I quite understand
that you were invited to come. But a man solemnly betrothed to a
_mademoiselle_ like the Signora Cicogna, in a time of such dire calamity
and peril, could scarcely allow himself to be tempted to accept the
invitation of one so beautiful, and so warmly attached to him, as is
Mademoiselle Julie; and on witnessing the passionate strength of that
attachment, say that he cannot keep a promise not to repeat his visits.
But if I mistake, and you are still betrothed to the Signorina, of course
all discussion is at an end."