id quickly, "if you
think the Revolution has altered the manners of society. It may have
done good in some ways--I believe it did--but in teaching young people
that they could disobey their parents, it did nothing but harm. And it
deceived them, too. As long as our nation lasts, marriages will be
arranged by those who know best. In your case, but for your father's
absurd indulgence, you would have been married months ago. However,
these delays cannot last for ever. I think you will not refuse the next
marriage that is offered you."

The girl looked wonderingly at her mother, half in terror, half in
hope. She spoke meaningly, positively. What marriage could this be?

"What would you say to a distinguished soldier?" said Madame de Sainfoy,
watching her keenly. "Then, with some post about the Court and your
husband always away at the wars, you could lead a life as independent as
you chose. Now, pray do not think it necessary to throw yourself out of
the window. I make a suggestion, that is all. I am quite aware that
commands are thrown away on a young lady of your character."

"What do you mean, mamma?" the girl panted, with a quick drawing-in of
her breath. "Who is it? Not that man who dined here--that man who was
talking to you?"

Madame de Sainfoy flamed suddenly into one of those cold rages which had
an effectiveness all their own.

"Idiot!" she said between her teeth. "Contemptible little fool! And if
General Ratoneau, a handsome and distinguished man, did you the honour
of asking for your hand, would you expect me to tell him that you had
not taken a fancy to him?"

"Mon Dieu!" Helene murmured. She turned away to the window for a moment,
clasping her hands upon her breast; then, white as death, came back and
stood before her mother.

"It is what I feared," she said. "It is what you were talking about; I
knew it at the time. That was why you sent me out of the room--you
wanted to talk it over. Have you settled it, then? What did papa say?"

Madame de Sainfoy hesitated. She had not at all intended to mention any
name, or to make Helene aware to any extent of the true facts of the
case. Her sudden anger had carried her further than she meant to go. She
neither wished to frighten the girl into flying to her father, nor to
tell her that he had refused his consent.

"Really, Helene, you are my despair," she said, and laughed, her eyes
fixed on the girl's lovely, changing face. "You leap to conclusions in
an utte