“I have never done as Vincent did, Aimée; and my friendship with the French is what it ever was. If Vincent comes as your husband, I will see him as such. As a friend, I cannot. Is he your husband, my love?”
“No!”
“He is to be your husband?”
“If you would see him. If he were your friend. He urges me, father; and Madame Leclerc and Isaac urge me; but I cannot marry him yet. Father, you do not know how much my heart is with you and my mother.”
“Are you happy, Aimée?”
“Madame Leclerc is very kind; and Vincent’s love is everything that ought to make me happy, but—”
“Will you go home with me, my child?”
“How glad I should be, if only you loved Vincent!”
“I cannot, Aimée. Would that I could!”
“Then, when I have married him, you will see him as my husband? I cannot marry till my heart is more at ease—till I see everybody as friendly as Vincent said they were. But when we are married we will come to Pongaudin. May we?”