as very
handsome, with the slenderness of youth, but strong and muscular, and
above all, his face was good.

Antoine with the napkin over his arm did most of the serving, and being
a man the conventional differences did not seem to him so great as they
did to his daughter.

"A handsome pair," he said to her.

But while willing to admit much to herself, Suzanne would not admit it
to her father.

"Aye, handsome," she replied in a fierce whisper, "but not well
matched. He comes from an uncivilized continent on the other side of the
world, and soon he'll be going back there. I would that her brother,
Monsieur Philip, were here where he ought to be. Perhaps he'd be
foolish, too, because he likes the strange American, but it would
relieve us of care."

"But America is not a barbarous continent, Suzanne, at least some of it
is not. I have heard that in the eastern part of their country many of
them act very much as we do, and we have seen those in Paris who appear
to be quite civilized. And Suzanne, often they are rich, very rich.
Before I left Paris the second time I made it a point to inquire about
this young man, and I discovered that he had an immensely wealthy uncle,
whose sole heir he is."

"Ah!" said Suzanne, making a long intake of the breath. It was easier
than she had thought for John to become French.

"And the fortunes of the house of Lannes are moderate now, as you and I
know quite well, Suzanne," continued the wise Antoine. "Surely it must
have occurred to Madame her mother, when our little Mademoiselle Julie
was yet but a beautiful young child, that she might make a great
marriage some day. In this world of ours, Suzanne, many millions of good
francs should not be allowed to escape from France."

"It is so, my father," said Suzanne. "France will need numberless
millions when this war is over. Here is the vinegar for the salad. Not
too much. Mademoiselle Julie likes only a little of it. What fortune it
was to find a hotel furnished with everything! The faint sighing sound
that still comes on the wind, is it not that of the guns, my father?"

"Aye, Suzanne, it's that of the cannon thundering far away, but
Mademoiselle Julie and Mr. Scott have forgotten all about it, and it
would be a pity to recall them to it."

Suzanne nodded. For a little space she, too, was compelled to relax. The
salad now being complete she served it herself, and as she did so she
relaxed still further, murmuring that they were j