klausse had a son, Frantz; and had they divined
this, nothing could have led them to imagine that Frantz was the
betrothed lover of Suzel. We will add that these young people
were made for each other, and that they loved each other, as
folks did love at Quiquendone.

It must not be thought that young hearts did not beat in this
exceptional place; only they beat with a certain deliberation.
There were marriages there, as in every other town in the world;
but they took time about it. Betrothed couples, before engaging
in these terrible bonds, wished to study each other; and these
studies lasted at least ten years, as at college. It was rare
that any one was "accepted" before this lapse of time.

Yes, ten years! The courtships last ten years! And is it, after
all, too long, when the being bound for life is in consideration?
One studies ten years to become an engineer or physician, an
advocate or attorney, and should less time be spent in acquiring
the knowledge to make a good husband? Is it not reasonable? and,
whether due to temperament or reason with them, the Quiquendonians
seem to us to be in the right in thus prolonging their courtship.
When marriages in other more lively and excitable cities are seen
taking place within a few months, we must shrug our shoulders,
and hasten to send our boys to the schools and our daughters to the
_pensions_ of Quiquendone.

For half a century but a single marriage was known to have taken
place after the lapse of two years only of courtship, and that
turned out badly!

Frantz Niklausse, then, loved Suzel Van Tricasse, but quietly, as
a man would love when he has ten years before him in which to
obtain the beloved object. Once every week, at an hour agreed
upon, Frantz went to fetch Suzel, and took a walk with her along
the banks of the Vaar. He took good care to carry his fishing-tackle,
and Suzel never forgot her canvas, on which her pretty hands
embroidered the most unlikely flowers.

Frantz was a young man of twenty-two, whose cheeks betrayed a
soft, peachy down, and whose voice had scarcely a compass of one
octave.

As for Suzel, she was blonde and rosy. She was seventeen, and did
not dislike fishing. A singular occupation this, however, which
forces you to struggle craftily with a barbel. But Frantz loved
it; the pastime was congenial to his temperament. As patient as
possible, content to follow with his rather dreamy eye the cork
which bobbed on the top of the water, he