It was hot one afternoon, and she would not go out anywhere. The chamber window overlooked the garden, where flowers and sweet herbs were growing, and every whiff of wind sent a shower of fragrance within. She had dropped her book and gone to dreaming. Pani sat stringing beads for some embroidery—or perhaps had fallen into a doze.
There was a step and a cordial "bon soir." Jeanne roused at the voice.
"I am glad to find you in, Pani. It is well that you have not much house to keep, for then you could not go out so often."
"No. Be seated, Madame, if it please you."
"Yes. I want a little talk about the child, Pani. Monsieur De Ber has been in consultation with the notary, M. Loisel, and has laid before him a marriage proposal from Pierre. He could see no objections. I did think I would like a little more thrift and household knowledge in my son's wife, but I am convinced he will never fancy anyone else, and he will be well enough fixed to keep a maid, though they are wasteful trollops and not like your own people, Pani. And Jeanne has her dowry. Since she has no mother or aunt it is but right to consult you, and I know you have been friendly to Pierre. It will be a very good marriage for her, and I have come to say we are all agreed, and that the betrothal may take place as soon as she likes."
Jeanne had listened with amazement and curiosity to the first part of the speech and the really pleasant tone of voice. Now she came forward and stood in the doorway, her slim figure erect, her waving hair falling over her beautiful shoulders, her eyes with the darkness of night in them, but the color gone out of her cheeks with the great effort she was making to keep calm.
"Madame De Ber," she began, "I could not help hearing what you said. I thank you for your kindly feelings toward your son's wishes, but before any further steps are taken I want to say that a betrothal is out of the question, and that there can be no plan of marriage between us."
"Jeanne Angelot!" Madame's eyes flashed with yellow lights and her black brows met in a frown.
"I am sorry that Pierre loves me. I told him long ago, before he went away, when we were only children, that I could not be his wife. I tried to evade him when he came back, and to show him how useless his hopes were. But he would not heed. Even if you had liked and approved me, Madame, I might have felt sorrier, but that would not have made me love him."
"And, pray, what is the matter with Pierre? He may not be such a gallant dancing Jack as the young officer, or a marvelous fiddler like M. Loisel's nephew, who I hear has been paying court to you. Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot, you have made yourself the talk of the town, and you may be glad to have a respectable man marry you."