"Hush, Julia, you are indebted to him for accomplishing your own desire."
"But I would never, never..."
"Petite sotte," cried the marquise, "then you would never have been on this yacht."
Intensely troubled and annoyed, Julia asked in a low tone:
"For heaven's sake, ma tante, tell me what the Duc de Tremont thinks!"
Her aunt laughed softly. The intrigue and romance of it all entertained her. She had the sense of having made a very pretty concession to her niece, of having accomplished a very agreeable pleasure trip for herself. As for young Sabron, he would be sure to be discovered at the right moment, to be lionized, decorated and advanced. The reason that she had no wrinkles on her handsome cheek was because she went lightly through life.
"He thinks, my dearest girl, that you are like all your countrywomen: a little eccentric and that you have a strong mind. He thinks you one of the most tender-hearted and benevolent of girls."
"Ma tante, ma tante!"
"He thinks you are making a little mission into Algiers among the sick and the wounded. He thinks you are going to sing in the hospitals."
"But," exclaimed the girl, "he must think me mad."