here away from your home and your father's protection.
That would bring colour into your cheeks."

"You may let my cheeks alone, Mademoiselle."

"You may be sure I will do that."

"I'm quite satisfied with my complexion, and I wouldn't exchange it for
that of Brignan de Brignan. I dare say his face is red enough."

"Yes, a most manly colour. And his broad shoulders--and powerful
arms--and fine bold eyes--ah! there _is_ the picture of a hero--and his
superb moustaches--"

Now I was at the time not strong in respect of moustaches. I was
extremely sensitive upon the point. My frame, though not above middle
size, was yet capable of robust development, my paleness was not beyond
remedy, and my eyes were of a pleasant blue, so there was little to
rankle in what she said of my rival's face and body; but as to the
moustaches----!

I scrambled to my feet.

"I tell you what it is, Mademoiselle. Just to show what your Brignan
really amounts to, and whether I mean to be a monk, and what a reader of
books can do when he likes, I have made up my mind to go to Paris; and
there I will find your Brignan, and show my scorn of such an illiterate
bravo, and cut off his famous moustaches, and bring them back to you for
proof! So adieu, Mademoiselle, for this is the last you will see of me
till what I have said is done!"

The thing had come into my head in one hot moment, indeed it formed
itself as I spoke it; and so I, the quiet and studious, stood committed
to an act which the most harebrained brawler in Anjou would have deemed
childish folly. Truly, I did lack knowledge of the world.

I turned from Mlle. Celeste's look of incredulous wonderment, and went
off through the woods, with swifter strides than I usually took, to our
chateau. Of course I dared not tell my parents my reason for wishing to
go to Paris. It was enough, to my mother at least, that I should desire
to go on any account. The best way in which I could put my resolution to
them, which I did that very afternoon, on the terrace where I found them
sitting, was thus:

"I have been thinking how little I know of the world. It is true, you
have taken me to Paris; but I was only a lad then, and what I saw was
with a lad's eyes and under your guidance. I am now twenty-two, and many
a man at that age has begun to make his own career. To be worthy of my
years, of my breeding, of my name, I ought to know something of life
from my own experience. So I have resolved, with you