"Oh yes, indeed," replied Monsieur de Liancourt; "for I watched their parting from the cavalier, which was built at the time of the siege, where I could see them, but they could not see me. It was as formal as a court ceremony. He kissed her hand, and made her a low bow, and said something which I did not exactly hear, but the last words were, 'I will consider all you have said.'"
"So, then," said Madame de Chazeul, "Mademoiselle Rose hears reason at last! But what is it that has done this? she always seemed as cold as ice before, and barely willing."
"Oh! the fact is," replied the Count, "Rose was never without ambition. I do not pretend to say she is in love with Chazeul; but he took care to inform her of the high and splendid fate that would be hers as his wife, and that was quite enough."
"It may be so," answered the Marchioness; "ambition is at the bottom of every woman's heart; but yet if De Montigni were as handsome as when he went away, I should have fancied that love and folly might have had a hard struggle against ambition and good sense. I would not have suffered them to have any private conversation, if I had been here."
"It was the only way to get De Montigni to consent," rejoined Monsieur de Liancourt; "besides, Chazeul has no cause to fear the comparison. He is a man with knowledge of the world and of courts. The other is still a boy, with no knowledge of anything but books and philosophy."
"Not the man to win a woman, indeed;" said Madame de Chazeul, with a curl of the lip; "but we shall see."
As the last words were on her tongue, they entered the corridor where De Montigni and Chazeul were walking up and down with the old commander; and an amusing scene took place between the Marchioness and the rest of the party. She had made up her mind as to the part which she was to act towards her nephew; and the moment she saw him, she exclaimed, with a joyous air, and holding out her open arms towards him, "Ah, my dear Louis, welcome back to your native land! What a truant you have been! How like he is to poor Louise!" and she embraced him, apparently with all the tenderness of a mother.
The old commander growled a savage oath or two, and, when she turned to him, looked her full in the face, saying, "He is like Louise; and that is why I love him."
"Ah, Michael," said the Marchioness, "you always were a bear, and always will be one. It is lucky you do not bite as well as growl."
"I may bite some day, if I am provoked," answered the commander.