“I am sure there would be no regret in the case,” said Eugene warmly. “As little girls are concerned, Mademoiselle Virgie is one of the healthiest and the best-tempered. A suitable dowry being attached to her, she will have the benefit of my beau nom, as one says in France. And will she not rejoice to be madame la comtesse?”
“She will be too sensible a girl to hang her happiness on a title, I hope,” said Mr. Manning; “and though you seem a decent enough boy now, you may grow up to be a scamp.”
Eugene’s little straight back grew more rigid than before. “I am a de Vargas,” he said with an expression of proud and conscious superiority. “There are no scamps in our family.”
Mr. Manning twisted his lips to conceal the inward laughter that was consuming him. “Granted that you are not going to be a scamp, how will you earn your bread?”
“By my sword.”
“But there doesn’t seem to be much use for swords nowadays. The sentiment of to-day is against war; and I would rather have a whole son-in-law, not one that somebody is going to carve to pieces.”
“But the army must be maintained. I shall be an officer, and hold myself ready for war.”
“Oh! I see. Well, to come back to my starting-point, I don’t like this plan. It’s too one-sided—too sure for you, too risky for my daughter.”
“Are not American girls equal to French girls who do this?”
“Yes, I daresay; but I prefer an American husband for my child. I know that French people look out for money. You won’t let your army officers marry without getting a certain amount with a wife, I have heard; but somehow or other the thing does not commend itself to me. I don’t believe in marrying for money.”