d idea?"

"Yes, she is melancholy," Angelot said, "but not cold or haughty at all.
She is sad; it is because she is alone, and her mother is hard and
stern, though her father is kind, and she has had no peace in life from
all their worldly ways. They wanted to marry her to people she
detested--her mother did, at least--"

"Yes, yes, I have heard something of that," said Monsieur Joseph. "They
expect a great deal from her. She is to make an advantageous
marriage--it is necessary for her family. It will happen one of these
days; it must. My dear little Angelot, you know nothing of the
world--how can you possibly imagine--Besides, I do not care for the
Sainfoys." Monsieur Joseph sighed. "I would rather you went to Brittany
for a wife, and so would your mother."

"But you will help me, Uncle Joseph?" said Angelot.

"Help you! How can I? Anyhow, you must tell me more. How did you find
out all this? When did those people give you an opportunity of speaking
to her? From their own point of view, they are certainly very imprudent.
But I suppose they think you harmless."

It is unpleasant to be thought harmless. Angelot blushed angrily.

"They may find themselves mistaken," he muttered. "I will tell you,
Uncle Joseph;" and he went on to give a slight sketch of what had
happened.

It seemed necessary to convince his uncle that he was not talking
nonsense, that the fates had really allowed him a few minutes' talk with
Helene. He could only give half an explanation, after all; the old
mulberry tree had been the only witness of what was too sacred to be
told. He said that Mademoiselle Moineau's fortunate nap had given them
time to understand each other.

"And this is the fine governess to whom they expect me to confide my
Riette!" said Monsieur Joseph, laughing; but he became serious again
directly. "And in this interview under the tree, my poor Angelot," he
said very gravely, "you made up your mind to propose yourself as a
husband for Mademoiselle Helene?"

"It sounds solemn, Uncle Joseph, when you say it. But yes, I suppose you
are right," said Angelot.

"It _is_ solemn. Most solemn and serious. Something more than a
flirtation, an amourette. For life, as I understand you. A real marriage
a l'Anglais," said Monsieur Joseph.

For answer, Angelot raved a little. His uncle listened indulgently, with
a charming smile, to all the pretty lunacies of the young man's first
love, poured into an ear and a heart that would never