"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the merchant, affecting great surprise, and following with his eyes in the direction pointed by the colonel, "I was thinking to myself, there is something of a family resemblance."
"You think so?"
"I do, monsieur—I beg your pardon for the great liberty—"
"Don't begin apologizing again! For God's sake, be not so very formal at all points, my dear man! As I was saying, at those tourneys there always was what was called a Queen of Beauty. She distributed the prizes to the victors. Now, then, that shall be the role for your charming daughter. She shall be the Queen of Beauty at the tournament that I am about to give—she will be well worthy of the distinction."
"Oh, monsieur! That is too much! Oh, it is too much! Moreover, do you not think that for a young girl—to be in that way—in plain view—vis-a-vis to messieurs your dragoons—is a little—I beg your pardon for the great liberty—but it is a little—what shall I say?—a little—"
"Dismiss all such scruples, my dear Monsieur Lebrenn. The noblest dames were in olden days chosen as the Queens of Beauty at the tourney. They even gave a kiss to the victor, on his mouth."
"I understand that—they were accustomed thereto—while my daughter—you see—confound it!—she is only eighteen, and has been brought up—like a bourgeois girl."
"You need not feel uneasy on that score. I never thought for a moment that your daughter should give the victor a kiss."
"That is good, monsieur! How kind you are! And if you will also consent that my daughter do not embrace—"
"That goes without saying, my dear monsieur. You do not need my consent. I am too happy, as it is, to have you and also your family, accept my invitation."