“Well, sergeant,” cried Paul, coming up to him, “so I understand that my old friend Toni and Mademoiselle Denise are to be married.”
“I had not heard the news, sir,” responded Sergeant Duval, stiffening. “I thank you for acquainting me with it.”
“The fact is,” said Paul, “Toni is terribly afraid of you, and he asked me to make the communication. I thought perhaps something had passed between your sister and Toni’s mother, but, at all events, you know as much about Toni as anybody. He is an excellent fellow, a fine soldier, and has been in love with Mademoiselle Denise ever since he was a small boy.”
“There were more small bad boys in Bienville than any place I ever saw, sir,” was the sergeant’s discouraging reply, “and Toni was about the worst of the lot.”
“Come, now, sergeant, you are too hard on Toni. He was no worse than I was. All small boys are bad, but all of them that I have ever seen had something good about them. Madame Marcel, you know, is well-to-do, and when Toni’s time is up he can get a place, I know, as instructor in a riding-school at three hundred francs the month. I don’t think Mademoiselle Denise will do ill if you take Toni for a son-in-law.”
The sergeant twisted his mustache reflectively.
“And beside that,” continued Paul, who had become a marvel of duplicity, “I understand that Madame Marcel is smiling on you. A remarkably fine, handsome man you are, sergeant, and I am not surprised that Madame Marcel likes you, but she would like you a great deal better if you would give Denise to Toni. You see, it would be a nice, family arrangement.”
A pleased grin overspread the sergeant’s face.
“Well, sir,” he replied, “a man does not take a husband for his only child without looking well about him. It is true that Madame Marcel is well-to-do, and I could tie up Denise’s dowry so that Toni couldn’t touch it, and perhaps I will think it over, sir, and let you know.”