“Capt. Léopold, of the Third Hussars, officier de la Légion d’Honneur, and heir to the title of baron. I don’t begrudge him any of his glories, my dear; I only wish there were ten times more. I suppose he will be very well off; not that you care about that.”
“No, indeed, I don’t!” cried Pearl. “Why should I?”
“Nonsense, child, nonsense! All the same I like to hear you say it. Nowadays you young girls are so worldly-minded you only think of what a husband can give you. It is dreadful—it is indeed; as to these French, it is positively frightful to think of the way they go about it—just as if they were buying a horse or hiring a house. But your Frenchman will, I am sure, prove an exception. Of course he is supposed not to have said a word to you himself; but you don’t expect me to believe that—”
“Indeed, dear Mrs. Monteagle, I give you my solemn word of honor—” broke in Pearl.
“Ah! yes, my dear. Words of honor in a case like this are made to be broken; but has his mother spoken to you—that is to say, to your father yet?”
“Dear Mrs. Monteagle, I don’t know what you are talking about—I don’t indeed! M. Léon has never opened his lips to me on such a subject, and I feel sure he hasn’t to papa either.”
“Well, perhaps not; you young people have a way of understanding each other without much talking. I know all about it; I was young once myself, though you may not believe it. I know that in my time a young man could tell a girl he adored her without putting it in so many words.”
“I dare say they can do so nowadays, too,” said Pearl; “but I know that M. Léon never told me, in words or in any other way, that he adored me.”
“Tut! tut! Then he made his sister say it for him; these French people have peculiar ways I know. I dare say the little French girl did it.”
“Blanche? She declares that Léon adores only two things, fighting and jam. ‘Set him before the enemy or before a pot de confiture and he is the happiest of men!’ That is what Blanche says of him.”