“I shall maintain a dignified silence with the reporters,” said Grandin, “and refuse to say a word upon the subject of whether Diane is to marry the Marquis Egmont de St. Angel or not. But I shall meanwhile write a circumstantial account of everything, mentioning all our names as frequently as possible, and send it to all the Paris newspapers, anonymously of course.”
François threw himself back in another chair and laughed uproariously.
“I always said, Skinny,” he cried, “that you were the most obstinate, pig-headed, impudent, determined creature that was ever on this planet. Here you have actually bullied a marquis into making you an offer of marriage!”
Jean, almost as pale as Diane, spoke composedly:
“I wish you happiness, Diane,” he said. “Now, tell us all about it.”
“We are to be married this day three weeks,” said Diane. “When I think of it I am so happy I feel as if I could fly. The Marquis has a little shooting-box an hour from here, and we are to drive there, the Marquis and I and Madame Grandin. She will be one of my witnesses, and the Marquis will provide the other. The civil and religious ceremonies will both take place the same day. The Marquis says his colonel will take a hand in the business, but that he can manage that.”
A slight chill fell upon all present. Diane, realizing it, blushed and felt every inch a traitor. Then Jean spoke:
“It seems to me, Diane,” he said, “that you ought to have some man friend with you, M. Grandin, for example. Not that I wish to go. Oh, no, not for a moment!”
As Jean said these words, his strong, clean-shaven face was distorted for an instant. Everybody knew that he least of any one in the world wished to see Diane married to another man.
“Diane is a quick study,” said François, laughing, “but it will take her all of three weeks to learn her part as a marquise. It is the best joke I ever heard—a joke on her, and on my cousin the Marquis, and on all of us!”