al," said Urbain, "Mademoiselle de Sainfoy has not
been asked for her opinion. The decision comes from her father, and
from him alone. Madame de Sainfoy was loyal to you; she urged your
cause, but unsuccessfully. My cousin, I must say, much as I love him,
showed a certain narrowness and obstinacy. He would hear nothing in
favour of the marriage."

"Were you present when they discussed it?"

"I was. I am always on the advanced, the liberal side. I spoke in your
favour."

"I am obliged to you. Your glass, monsieur. How do you find that cigar?"

"Excellent."

"Now, monsieur, give me your advice, for I see you are a clever man.
First, is any other marriage on the tapis for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy?"

"Decidedly no, monsieur. None."

"Shall I then insist on seeing her, and pleading my cause for myself?"

"I should not advise that course," said Urbain, and there was something
in his discreet smile which made the General's red face redder with a
touch of mortification.

"Well, I should not eat her," he said. "Her mother found me agreeable
enough, and a shy young girl rather likes a man who takes her by storm."

"Nevertheless, I think that plan would not answer. For one thing, my
cousin would object: he considers his refusal final. In fact--after much
thought--for I agree with Madame de Sainfoy as to the probable
advantages of a connection with a distinguished man like yourself--in
fact, there is only one faint possibility that occurs to me."

"What is that, monsieur?"

Urbain hesitated. He sat looking out of the window, frowning slightly,
the tips of his fingers pressed together.

"I wonder," he said--something, perhaps conscience, made the words long
in coming--"I wonder if some day, in the course of the reports that he
is bound, I believe, to make to the Emperor, it might occur to Monsieur
le Prefet to mention--"

General Ratoneau stared blankly. "Monsieur le Prefet?"

"Well, am I wrong? I heard something of an imperial order--a list of
young ladies--marriages arranged by His Majesty, without much consulting
of family prejudices--"

General Ratoneau brought down his heavy fist on the table, so that the
glasses jumped and clattered. His language was startling.

"Monsieur de la Mariniere, you are the cleverest man in Anjou!" he
shouted. "And Madame la Comtesse would not be angry?"

"I think not. But a command from the Emperor--a command coming
independently from the highest quarter--would naturally carry a