“My dear father,” said Vallombreuse, “I present to you the Baron de Sigognac; formerly my rival, now my friend, and soon to be my brother, if you consent.  Any improvement that you may see in me is due to his influence, and it is no light obligation that I owe to him—­though he will not admit that there is any.  The baron comes to ask a favour of you, which I shall rejoice to see accorded to him.”

The prince made a gesture of acquiescence, and looked reassuringly at de Sigognac, as if inviting him to speak fearlessly for himself.  Encouraged by the expression of his eyes, the baron rose, and, with a low bow, said, in clear, distinct tones, “Prince, I am here to ask of you the hand of Mlle. la Comtesse Isabelle de Lineuil, your daughter.”

The old nobleman looked at him steadily and searchingly for a moment, and then, as if satisfied with his scrutiny, answered:  “Baron de Sigognac, I accede to your request, and consent to this alliance, with great pleasure—­so far, that is, as my paternal will accords with the wishes of my beloved daughter—­whom I should never attempt to coerce in anything.  The Comtesse de Lineuil must be consulted in this matter, and herself decide the question which is of such vital importance to her.  I cannot undertake to answer for her—­the whims and fancies of young ladies are sometimes so odd and unexpected.”

The prince said this with a mischievous smile—­as if he had not long known that Isabelle loved de Sigognac with all her heart, and was pining for him.  After a brief pause, he added:  “Vallombreuse, go and fetch your sister, for, without her, I cannot give a definite answer to the Baron de Sigognac.”

The young duke accordingly went for Isabelle, who was greatly alarmed at this summons, and obeyed it in fear and trembling.  Despite her brother’s assurances, she could not bring herself to believe in the reality of such great happiness.  Her breast heaved tumultuously, her face was very pale, at each step her knees threatened to give way under her, and when her father drew her fondly to his side she was forced to grasp the arm of his chair tightly, to save herself from falling.

“My daughter,” said the prince gravely, “here is a gentleman who does you the honour to sue for your hand.  For my own part, I should hail this union with joy—­for he is of an ancient and illustrious family, of stainless reputation and tried courage, and appears to me to possess every qualification that heart could desire.  I am perfectly satisfied with him—­but has he succeeded in pleasing you, my child?  Young heads do not always agree with gray ones.  Examine your own heart carefully, and tell me if you are willing to accept the Baron de Sigognac as your husband.  Take plenty of time to consider—­you shall not be hurried, my dear child, in so grave a matter as this.”

The prince’s kindly, cordial smile gave evidence that he was in a playful mood, and Isabelle, plucking up courage, threw her arms round her father’s neck, and said in the softest tones, “There is no need for me to consider or hesitate, my dear lord and father!  Since the Baron de Sigognac is so happy as to please you, I confess, freely and frankly, that I have loved him ever since we first met, and have never wished for any other alliance.  To obey, you in this will be my highest happiness.”