"I ask it as a favor, Francine."
Francine, with open eyes, advanced doubtfully, seating herself nicely on the chair, more astonished than complimented, and more alarmed than pleased.
"Ah, that is nicer!" said the Comte, with an approving nod. "How have I endured it all these years! Francine, you may help yourself to the wine."
The astonished maid-of-all-work, who had swallowed a spoon of soup with great discomfort, sprang up, all in a tremble, stammering with defiant virtue:
"M'sieur le Comte does not forget that I am an honest woman!"
"No, my dear Francine; I am certain of it. So sit down in peace. I will tell you the situation."
Francine hesitated, then, reassured by the devotion he gave to his soup, settled once more in her chair.
"Francine, I have made up my mind to one thing," said the Comte, filling his glass with such energy that a red circle appeared on the cloth. "This life I lead is all wrong. A man is a sociable being. He needs society. Isolation sends him back to the brute."
"Oh, yes, M'sieur le Comte," said Francine, who understood nothing.
"So I am resolved to marry."