“I’m sure,” said Michael, making a low bow to his guest, and pressing the handle of his pipe to his breast. “I’m sure my daughter will be very thankful for the great interest you take respecting her.”
“But as I was saying, you know, about this other little proposition of mine?”
“Well, M. Chapeau, I’m listening with all my ears, and very thankful for your kind friendship.”
“You see,” said Jacques, “M. Henri is going to change his condition; we’ve both been young fellows together; we’ve had our amusements and our pleasures like other young men, and, maybe, been as fortunate as most. Well, my friend, M. Henri is going to settle down, and marry the girl of his heart, whom he loves better than all the world; and what can I do better than follow his example? The truth is, I mean to settle down too, Michael Stein.”
“Well,” said Michael, scratching his head, and listening for the remainder of Chapeau’s little proposition.
“And I want to marry the girl of my heart, whom I love better than all the world, and her name is Annot Stein, and there’s an end of it; and now you know all about it.”
Annot’s heart beat quickly as she heard him make the last important declaration; and beautifully she thought he made it. When Chapeau called her a little angel, she swore to herself that he was the dearest fellow that ever lived and when he finished by protesting that she was the girl of his heart, and that he loved her better than all the world, she longed to run out and throw her arms about his neck.
Michael Stein took a long pull at his pipe, and blew out a huge cloud of tobacco before he made any answer, and then he said:
“M. Chapeau, I am sensible how great an honour you propose to do me and my poor daughter; but I am not a proud man, no one can say that Michael Stein was ever proud or ambitious; my only wish is to see my little girl married to a decent hard-working fellow, like her father.”
“Well, ain’t I a hard-working fellow?”