ons of the old lady
seemed to him preposterous.

On reflection, however, when he had studied the character of the
nobility in the neighborhood, who were rich in nothing but prejudices,
he clearly saw that pecuniary considerations alone would be strong
enough to decide the proud Countess de la Verberie to grant him her
daughter's hand.

This certainly ended his hesitations, and he turned his whole attention
to devising a plan for presenting his claim.

He did not find this an easy thing to accomplish. To go in quest of a
wife with her purchase-money in his hand was repugnant to his feelings,
and contrary to his ideas of delicacy. But he had no one to urge his
suit for him on his own merits; so he was compelled to shut his eyes to
the distasteful features of his task, and treat his passion as a matter
of business.

The occasion so anxiously awaited, to explain his intentions, soon
presented itself.

One day he entered a hotel at Beaucaire, and, as he sat down to dinner,
he saw that Mme. de la Verberie was at the adjoining table. He blushed
deeply, and asked permission to sit at her table, which was granted with
a most encouraging smile.

Did the countess suspect the love of the young engineer? Had she been
warned by her friend?

At any rate, without giving Andre time to gradually approach the subject
weighing on his mind, she began to complain of the hard times, the
scarcity of money, and the grasping meanness of the trades-people.

She had come to Beaucaire, indeed, to borrow money, and found every bank
and cash-box closed against her; and her lawyer had advised her to sell
her land for what it would bring. This made her very angry.

Temper, joined to that secret instinct of the situation of affairs which
is the sixth sense of a woman, loosened her tongue, and made her more
communicative to this comparative stranger than she had ever been to
her bosom friends. She explained to him the horror of her situation,
her present needs, her anxiety for the future, and, above all, her great
distress at not being able to marry off her beloved daughter. If she
only had a dowry for her child!

Andre listened to these complaints with becoming commiseration, but in
reality he was delighted.

Without giving her time to finish her tale, he began to state what he
called his view of the matter.

He said that, although he sympathized deeply with the countess, he could
not account for her uneasiness about her daughter.

Wha