"Then there is still some hope for her. She may be polished into shape. I shall suggest to your brother that she come here every day to take lessons with Sophie and Lucie. I dare say she is very ignorant."
"I am afraid she is. What a charming idea! How like your kindness! My brother will certainly accept your offer with enthusiasm. I shall insist upon it."
"He will, if he is a wise man," said Madame de Sainfoy. They both laughed: evidently the wisdom of Monsieur Joseph was not proverbial in the family. "Mademoiselle Moineau is an excellent governess, though she is growing old," she went on. "I have known her make civilised women out of the most unpromising material. I shall tell your brother that I consider it settled. It will be good for Sophie and Lucie, too, to have the stimulus of a companion."
"You are not afraid that—You know my brother's very strong opinions?"
"Do you think a child of twelve is likely to make converts?" she said, with an amused smile. "No, cousin. The influence will be the other way, but your brother will not be foolish enough, I hope, to consider that a danger."
Urbain shook his head gently: he would answer for nothing. He murmured, "A charming plan! The best thing that could happen to the child."
"A pity, too," said Madame de Sainfoy, looking out of the window, "that she should grow up without any young companions but your son. Where are they going now?"
"I don't know," said Urbain.
For a moment they watched silently, while Angelot and Henriette left the others in the garden, and walked away together, turning towards the château, and then disappearing behind a clump of trees.
"I know," said the Comtesse. "I told Hervé something of this plan of mine, and he approved highly: he has an old family affection for your brother. He is sending the young people to find Sophie and Lucie; they are out walking in the wood with Mademoiselle—Hélène is reading Italian in her own room."