r its necessities.

With his looks and his address it would have been easy to find a wife
who, by meeting his financial need, would have facilitated his path in
virtue; but on this point he was fastidious. Rather, perhaps, he was
typical of that modern, transitional phase of the French social mind
which, while still acknowledging the supremacy of the family in
matrimonial affairs, insists on some freedom of personal selection. That
his future wife should have enough money to make her a worthy chatelaine
of Bienville, as well as to meet the subsidiary expenses the position
implied, was a foregone conclusion; but it was equally a matter beyond
dispute that she should be some one whom he could love. He had not found
this combination of essentials until he met Marion Grimston, and the
hand he was thereupon prepared to offer her was not wholly empty of his
heart.

In her he saw for the first time in his life the intrepid maiden who
seems to dare a man to come and master her. That she should be the
daughter of Robert Grimston, with his commercial primness, and Mrs.
Grimston, with her pretentious snobbery, was a mystery he made no
attempt to solve. It was enough for him that this proud creature was in
the world, especially as her bearing toward him inspired the hope that
he might win her. It was a pity that he should have turned aside from
such high endeavor in a foolish dash to make himself the Hippomenes of
Diane Eveleth's Atalanta. Putting little heart into the latter contest,
he would have suffered little mortification from defeat, had it not been
that the high spirits of the pursued lady invited the world to come and
laugh with her at his expense.

Then it was that the Marquis de Bienville, in an uncontrollable access
of wounded vanity, had thrown his traditions of honor to the winds, and
lied. It was not such a lie as could be told--and forgotten; for there
were too many people eager to believe and repeat it. Within twenty-four
hours he found himself famous, all the way from the Parc Monceau to the
rue de Varennes. After his conscience had given him a sleepless night he
got up to see that any modification of his statement meant retraction.
Retraction was out of the question, in that it involved the loss of his
reputation among men. He was caught in a trap. He must lie and maintain
his place, or he must confess and go out of society. It must not be
supposed that he took his predicament lightly, or that he made his
choi