Aleck, on his part, had not come to his decision suddenly or impulsively; nor, having arrived there, was he to be turned from it easily.  True as it was that he sincerely and affectionately desired Melanie Reynier for a wife, yet on the whole he was a very cool Romeo.  He was manly, but he was calculating; he was honorably disposed toward matrimony, but he was not reborn with love.  And so, in the sober bedroom of the club, he quickly fell into the good sleep induced by fatigue and healthy nerves.

Morning brought counsel and a disposition to renew operations.  A note was despatched to his Diana by a private messenger, and the boy was bidden to wait for an answer.  It came presently: 

“Come at twelve, if you wish.

“MELANIE REYNIER.”

Aleck smiled with satisfaction.  Here was a wise venture going through happily, he hoped.  He was pleased that she had named the very hour he had asked for the night before.  That was like her good, frank way of meeting a situation, and it augured well for the unknown emergencies of their future life.  He had little patience with timidity and traditional coyness in women, and great admiration for an open and fearless spirit.  Melanie’s note almost set his heart thumping.

But not quite; and no one understood the cool nature of that organ better than Melanie herself.  The ladies in the apartment at the Archangel had lingered at their breakfast, the austerity of which had been mitigated by a center decoration of orchids and fern, fresh-touched with dew; or so Madame Reynier had described them to Melanie, as she brought them to her with the card of Mr. Lloyd-Jones.  Miss Reynier smiled faintly, admired the blossoms and turned away.

The ladies usually spoke French with each other, though occasionally Madame Reynier dropped into the harsher speech of her native country.  On this morning she did this, telling Melanie, for the tenth time in as many days, that in her opinion they ought to be going home.  Madame considered this her duty, and felt no real responsibility after the statement was made.  Nevertheless, she was glad to find Melanie disposed to discuss the matter a little further.

“Do you wish to go home, Auntie, or is it that you think I ought to go?”

“I don’t wish to go without you, child, you know that; and I am very comfortable here.  But his Highness, your cousin, is very impatient; I see that in every letter from Krolvetz.  You offended him deeply by putting off your marriage to Count Lorenzo, and every day now deepens his indignation against you.  I don’t like to discuss these things, Melanie, but I suspect that your action deprives him of a very necessary revenue; and I understand, better than you do, to what lengths your cousin is capable of going when he is displeased.  You are, by the law of your country, his ward until you marry.  Would it not be better to submit to him in friendship, rather than to incur his enmity?  After all, he is your next of kin, the head of your family, and a very powerful man.  If we are going home at all, we ought to go now.”