“Richard, Susie has told you about Monsieur Reynaud.”

“Yes, and she has told me that there is no man of whom she has a higher opinion, but—­”

“But she has told you that for me it would be a rather quiet, rather commonplace marriage.  Oh, naughty sister!  Will you believe it, Richard, that I can not get this fear out of her head?  She does not understand that, before everything, I wish to love and be loved; will you believe it, Richard, that only last week she laid a horrible trap for me?  You know that there exists a certain Prince Romanelli.”

“Yes, I know you might have been a princess.”

“That would not have been immensely difficult, I believe.  Well, one day I was so foolish as to say to Susie, that, in extremity, I might accept the Prince Romanelli.  Now, just imagine what she did.  The Turners were at Trouville, Susie had arranged a little plot.  We lunched with the Prince, but the result was disastrous.  Accept him!  The two hours that I passed with him, I passed in asking myself how I could have said such a thing.  No, Richard; no, Susie; I will be neither princess, nor marchioness, nor countess.  My wish is to be Madame Jean Reynaud; if, however, Monsieur Jean Reynaud will agree to it, and that is by no means certain.”

The regiment entered the village, and suddenly military music burst martial and joyous across the space.  All three remained silent, it was the regiment, it was Jean who passed; the sound became fainter, died away, and Bettina continued: 

“No, that is not certain.  He loves me, however, and much, but without knowing well what I am; I think that I deserve to be loved differently; I think that I should not cause him so much terror, so much fear, if he knew me better, and that is why I ask you to permit me to speak to him this evening freely, from my heart.”

“We will allow you,” replied Richard, “you shall speak to him freely, for we know, both of us, Bettina, that you will never do anything that is not noble and generous.”

“At least, I shall try.”

The children ran up to them; they had seen Jean, he was quite white with dust, he said good-morning to them.

“Only,” added Bella, “he is not very nice, he did not stop to talk to us; usually he stops, but this time he wouldn’t.”

“Yes, he would,” replied Harry, “for at first he seemed as if he were going to—­and then he would not, he went away.”

“Well, he didn’t stop, and it is so nice to talk to a soldier, especially when he is on horseback.”

“It is not that only, it is that we are very fond of Monsieur Jean; if you knew, papa, how kind he is, and how nicely he plays with us.”

“And what beautiful drawings he makes.  Harry, you remember that great Punch who was so funny, with his stick, you know?”

“And the dog, there was the little dog, too, as in the show.”

The two children went away talking of their friend Jean.