“No, he is running; I rated him soundly.”
“Oh, yes, uncle; I know you there!”
“Stop,” said the Count, pulling Emilie’s horse by the bridle, “I do not see the necessity of making advances to some shopkeeper who is only too lucky to have been thrown down by a charming young lady, or the commander of La Belle-Poule.”
“Why do you think he is anything so common, my dear uncle? He seems to me to have very fine manners.”
“Every one has manners nowadays, my dear.”
“No, uncle, not every one has the air and style which come of the habit of frequenting drawing-rooms, and I am ready to lay a bet with you that the young man is of noble birth.”
“You had not long to study him.”
“No, but it is not the first time I have seen him.”
“Nor is it the first time you have looked for him,” replied the admiral with a laugh.
Emilie colored. Her uncle amused himself for some time with her embarrassment; then he said: “Emilie, you know that I love you as my own child, precisely because you are the only member of the family who has the legitimate pride of high birth. Devil take it, child, who could have believed that sound principles would become so rare? Well, I will be your confidant. My dear child, I see that his young gentleman is not indifferent to you. Hush! All the family would laugh at us if we sailed under the wrong flag. You know what that means. We two will keep our secret, and I promise to bring him straight into the drawing-room.”