"Precisely," said Dick. "Monsieur le Comte is very penetrating."
"Oh, no, very stupid, usually," said the Count. "But at present there is a reason why my perception is keen wherever a love affair or a marriage is concerned."
"Then it is true, as the toast of Monsieur l'Abbé indicated, that you also are about to achieve happiness? We have to felicitate each other!"
"Yes, it is true. And so great is my happiness that I would have the whole world happy at the same time. I was saying this to the Abbé only an hour ago, and wishing for opportunities to make others similarly happy, when, behold, the good God grants my wish by sending you to my door. You would have the aid of the Abbé, you say? Very well. I use the power I have over the Abbé's actions, through his affection for me, to compel his aid in your behalf."
"But that is not necessary," said the Abbé. "You know I dote upon runaway matches. I need not apologize, Monsieur Wetheral,—one can easily see, by the circumstances, that yours is a runaway match. It is therefore a love match."
"You are right, Monsieur l'Abbé. The young lady was to have been sacrificed, according to the custom that prevails everywhere but in my country. Her horror at the match arranged for her would have distressed you, gentlemen, if you could have witnessed it."
"I am sure it would have distressed me," said the Count. "But it is now averted, and need be thought of no more. The Abbé shall perform your marriage before you leave my roof, under which you are safe from all pursuit."
"Imagine Monsieur le Comte aiding and abetting a runaway marriage a year ago!" said the Abbé, with a roguish smile.
"The Abbé is right, young gentleman. A year ago I should no more have thought of violating a universal custom of our civilization than of joining a conspiracy against the King. But a year ago I had not loved. I knew not what it might be for a man to see the woman he loved given into the possession of another. I now consider love as having first right. It is to be obeyed against all other considerations. Moreover, if I now do Love a service in aiding this match of yours, Love will owe me a favor. It may repay me by—giving me—" The Count ceased talking, and sighed.
"Monsieur le Comte has a strange fancy he does not receive back as much love as he bestows," explained the Abbé, gently. "He does not allow for the lady's youth, which makes her naturally shy and undemonstrative in his presence."