The elders of the Eleventh Regiment were also compelled to admit that they had no right to keep the weeping girl from her own family; and, though they were heart-broken at being thus compelled to part with their darling, they gently persuaded her that she must leave them.
The Marchioness, afraid that further opposition might arise with delay, declared it was necessary for her to continue her journey at once, and that she must certainly take her niece with her; and at last, Marie, on the advice of her friends, agreed to go. So the weeping vivandière took a tender farewell of her lifelong friends, and kissed them all for the last time. When she came to Tonio, she embraced him passionately, declaring that in spite of her altered position, she should always remain faithful to him; and as the sorrowful young man watched his sweetheart drive away with her aristocratic relation, he vowed that he would do great deeds, and win for himself such an honourable name and position that he might be worthy to claim her yet.
On reaching the Château Berkenfeld, the Marchioness engaged masters and teachers to instruct her niece in dancing, music, foreign languages, and all the accomplishments she considered necessary for the education of a young lady of high rank; and Marie, though finding such a life very cramping and irksome after the unrestrained freedom of the camp, endeavoured to please her aunt to the best of her ability.
But the girl's heart was with her military friends; and every now and again she would break out into enthusiastic reminiscences of her childhood, and indulge in snatches of the merry regimental songs, to the horrified dismay of the decorous Marchioness, who was much shocked at such unladylike proceedings.
At the end of a year, Marie was declared by her masters to be vastly improved in her social demeanour; and the Marchioness, eager to establish her niece more firmly in her aristocratic circle, now arranged a marriage for her with the son of a Duchess. However, Marie could not forget her soldier sweetheart, Tonio, whom she still loved as dearly as ever; but in spite of her declarations that she could never wed with another, the Marchioness still continued her negotiations with the ducal suitor, and even arranged the day on which the marriage contract was to be signed.
It was about this time that Sergeant Sulpizio was wounded in an engagement not many miles distant from the Château Berkenfeld, and was sent to the Marchioness to crave her hospitality for awhile until he should be better. The Marchioness received the Sergeant with much kindness, bestowing the utmost attention upon him; and when he had recovered somewhat from his wounds, she even permitted him free intercourse with Marie, and told him of her plans with regard to the grand marriage she had arranged for her.
Sulpizio at first could scarcely recognise the merry little Daughter of the Regiment in the richly-gowned and elegant young lady whom he was now bidden by his hostess to admire; but when Marie, forgetful of her recent lessons in deportment, rushed enthusiastically into his arms, and hugged him with the most unmistakable joy, he knew that her faithful heart had not changed amidst her new surroundings.
The Marchioness was eager to show off her niece's accomplishments to the Sergeant, and desired her to sing to him a sentimental French ballad she had just received from Paris; but she was greatly scandalised when Marie, half-way through the ballad, suddenly broke out into the old rollicking song she had always loved so well, and roguishly went through a number of military evolutions as accompaniment.
But though Marie was cheered for a while by the arrival of the Sergeant, she soon grew unhappy again; for she could not prevent her aunt from carrying out the scheme of the grand marriage.