“In his figure, yes; and somewhat in his features also; but he is far more like his mother. Victoire was charming; and I am bound to acknowledge that everything I have observed in her son since he came here creates the most favourable impression.”
“He certainly seems to be a perfect gentleman,” Madame de Salgues admitted. “Un parfait honnête homme,” was what she said.
“He is courteous, unselfish, generous,” Madame de Talmont added. “His principles appear to be excellent; and although, of course, I greatly deplore the difference of religion, and should much prefer a Catholic, still I believe him to be really pious in his own way, and very scrupulous in observing the rites of his Church. Besides, as Clémence is herself so dévote, I have little doubt she will gain him in the end.”
“All you say is most true,” Henri assented warmly. “Dear mother, if it be your wish to give the hand of my sister to an honourable, noble-hearted, God-fearing man, I think you may search the world without finding a better than Ivan Ivanovitch Pojarsky.”
“The young man may deserve all you say of him,” Madame de Salgues interposed rather sharply; “but in the meantime I wish to know what are his prospects. What does he intend to live upon?”
“He is an officer—an ensign in the Chevalier Guard,” remarked Madame de Talmont.
“We all know that, my dear Rose,” returned the elder lady, with just a shade of contempt in her quiet, well-bred accents; “but we know equally well that his pay will scarcely keep him in white kid gloves, tobacco, and pocket-money.”
“He does not use tobacco,” Henri threw in by way of parenthesis.
“A place in such a corps may be a social distinction,” Madame de Salgues continued, “but it is in no sense a provision. It gives prestige, but it absorbs money.”
“I believe he has good expectations,” Madame de Talmont hazarded.