The sergeant was intensely amused and interested in the French priest. He obtained a few days’ leave from his duties, and occupied himself in showing his guest the sights of an American city. The innocence, the childishness, and the curiosity of his companion, and, above all, the attention that he attracted, provided the sergeant with the most agreeable sensation that he had had for many a day.

Eugene sometimes accompanied them, oftener he did not. He was no longer cheerful and contented, but had fallen into the reserved, quiet, almost sullen state in which he had been when Mrs. Hardy first knew him; and instead of mingling freely with the little family, he preferred to be left alone in his room, where he sat musing by the hour.

Occasionally he roused himself as the claims[Pg 162] of hospitality asserted themselves in his mind, and he politely endeavored to entertain the priest by conversations about French matters. To these conversations the sergeant lent a most attentive ear. He had an immense curiosity on the subject of foreign countries; and the precocious remarks of Eugene with regard to the peasant vote, the political clubs, and the rural life of the nobility in France, with the almost infantile responses of the curé to the boy’s questions and unfathomable prejudices, formed subjects on which he would remember to inform himself after they were gone.

It had been definitely settled that Eugene and the priest were to leave Boston at the end of the week, and sail across the sea to France.

Mrs. Hardy rarely spoke of the boy’s departure; but when she did, the reference was made cheerfully, and as if she expected that he would really go. In the meantime, when she could spare a few hours from her household duties, she busied herself with making preparations for his journey by adding to his rather scanty wardrobe. Eugene went shopping with[Pg 163] her while the sergeant and the priest were engaged in sight-seeing.

Late in the afternoon of the day preceding the one on which they were to leave, Eugene took the curé aside, and requested his companionship while he made a call of importance.

“It is to see the father of the little Virgie,” he said to Mrs. Hardy who was standing near.

“Oh, yes! I understand,” she said; “you wish to say good-by to your small playmate.”

Eugene did not wish to say good-by to his small playmate. However, he did not explain this to Mrs. Hardy, but simply gave her an inscrutable look from his deep black eyes, and walked out of the room with the priest.

It was a dark, chilly afternoon, and the priest shivered slightly inside his black cassock as they wended their way toward the broad and fashionable avenue where Virgie’s parents lived. He was not accustomed to such piercing winds in sunny France; and he murmured softly to himself, “Le climat de Loir-et-Cher est doux et tempéré.”

[Pg 164]

Mr. Manning, Virgie’s father, quite unaware of the visitors on their way to see him, had just come home from his office, and sat in his wife’s room talking to her, and waiting for dinner to be announced, when a maid knocked at the door, and said that a priest and a boy wanted to see him. He glanced sharply at her, and asked, “What are their names?”

“I forget, sir,” she said hesitatingly. “They were queer-sounding and foreign.”

“I cannot see them,” said Mr. Manning, settling himself back comfortably in his chair. “They are probably begging.”

The maid went down-stairs to a small reception-room, and gave the strangers Mr. Manning’s message.

“Return to your master, and say that I request an interview with him on the subject of business,” said Eugene firmly.

The maid felt the strange power that the lad exerted on all those who came in contact with him; and throwing him a glance of veiled admiration, she again went up-stairs.

[Pg 165]

“Tell the boy that I talk business in my office,” said Mr. Manning shortly. “Let him go there in the morning.”

Eugene was not daunted by this message. “Repeat carefully my words,” he said to the amused maid; and his eyes flamed as he looked at her. “To-morrow I shall be on my way to France. I have now a last chance to see the gentleman of this house. If he refuses, he may regret his loss.”

The maid once more bent her footsteps toward the staircase, and on the way met Bridget, with whom she had a whispered colloquy.

“It’s the little French boy, sir, that plays with Miss Virgie,” she said on returning to Mr. Manning.

“Is it?” said the gentleman with a laugh. “He is going to get on in the world, whoever he is;” and he hurried down-stairs.

The priest and Eugene rose and bowed profoundly at the entrance of the little, short, sharp business man. His gray eyes took in their peculiarities at one glance; then, somewhat[Pg 166] flattered by their obeisances, he responded by a nod of his head, and motioned them to be seated.

“You know my small daughter?” he asked, addressing Eugene.

“Sir, I have the honor of romping with her at times,” said the boy solemnly.

“Indeed!” replied Mr. Manning with equal solemnity; then with a quick, brisk movement of his hand he brushed back the hair from his forehead, and looked out of the window.

Eugene, overcome by the knowledge of the importance of his mission, neither smiled nor tried to make himself agreeable in any way to this brusque man, but waited in sober patience for a sufficient time to elapse before the proper moment arrived to approach the object of his visit.

“It is a raw day,” Mr. Manning said at last, addressing the priest.

A raw day was something quite beyond the curé’s ken; so he made no attempt to reply to the remark, but bowed agreeably and kept silence.
Marriage Request
“I am come,” said Eugene at last, “to demand the Hand of Your Daughter in Marriage.”

[Pg 167]

”I hope that mademoiselle your daughter is well,” said Eugene after a long pause.

“She is, thank you,” said Mr. Manning; then he, too, relapsed into silence.

“I am come,” said Eugene at last, seeing that the gentleman was politely yet stubbornly resolved not to enter into conversation with him, “supported by my friend monsieur le curé of Chatillon-sur-Loir, to demand the hand of mademoiselle your daughter in marriage.”

Mr. Manning was a man who had attained to great self-possession; but at Eugene’s astonishing request, he was again obliged to stroke his hair vigorously, and once more look out of the window.

Eugene contemplated him meanwhile in great satisfaction. This composed man of business would make an excellent father-in-law.

“May I ask,” said Mr. Manning at length, abruptly bringing his attention once more to bear upon his guest, “whether this is for immediate or future marriage?”

“For the future,” said Eugene quickly.

[Pg 168]

“How old are you?” asked the gentleman.

“I am thirteen, but I will be fourteen on my next birthday,” replied the lad.

“Well, now, don’t you think,” said Mr. Manning in an almost coaxing tone of voice, “that you are rather young yet to consider so important a question as the choosing of your future wife?”

“Exceedingly young,” said Eugene in an equally reasonable voice. “I am taking a part that is quite unusual, yet it suits me; for I am leaving this country, perhaps not to return for many years, therefore I beg you to grant me your best attention.”

Mr. Manning stared at the curé, whom he was almost forgetting in his interest in Eugene. What kind of a man was this who, after he had attained to years of maturity, suffered a child to go about making himself ridiculous?

The curé, blissfully unconscious of this thought, and not understanding a word of what he said or of what Eugene said, sat gazing tranquilly out through the door of the[Pg 169] reception-room at the magnificence of two parlors across the hall. He, a poor priest, had never been in so handsome a house in his life. The stone chateau of the de Vargas, which was large, bare, and comfortless, could not be compared with this mansion. As a young man, he had gone from the cottage of his peasant father and mother to a seminary, and from thence to Paris for a few months, where he lived the life of a student. He had seen the exterior of fine hotels and palaces, but never had his feet trodden such velvety carpets, never had his limbs pressed such soft furniture, never had he been received as a visitor in the home of such a one as this small amiable gentleman, who was probably a merchant prince in this strange new country, and who talked to his young friend with brevity, and yet without the smallest tincture of haughtiness.

The curé beamed amiably at Mr. Manning, and not a suspicion of envy found lodgment in his gentle breast. He was delighted to see a man in possession of so much luxury. “I[Pg 170] felicitate you, sir,” he murmured when Mr. Manning briefly asked him what relation he bore to Eugene.

“He cannot understand you, sir,” interposed Eugene, “unless you speak French or slow American.”

Mr. Manning made a gesture that significantly commended the curé to the pleasant company of his own thoughts. He was not the man to talk “slow American” when a few quick sentences would dispose of the business in hand.

“So you wish me to seriously consider your proposal, little boy,” he said, again confronting Eugene.

“I do, sir.”

“Well, then, give me your reasons for breaking through the custom of this country, which I suppose you know is not to arrange marriages until the contracting parties are of age.”

“When they usually arrange them for themselves,” continued Eugene.

Mr. Manning was excessively amused. “I see you know all about it,” he said.

[Pg 171]

“This is my excuse for breaking through your habits,” said Eugene earnestly. “I am noble; you are not. You might desire to have me for a son-in-law some day when I am no longer here, for I go to France to-morrow.”

“Couldn’t I write you a letter?” asked Mr. Manning.

“By the time of a few years I might form other arrangements; therefore, while I am here, where there are so few nobles, is it not better to secure me for mademoiselle your daughter?”

“Suppose mademoiselle my daughter didn’t wish to marry you when she grew up?”

“Oh! but she would,” said Eugene in great surprise. “Well-bred ladies are always arranged for in marriage in France, and they enjoy it. It would not be necessary to inform her until the time.”

“I know you fix these things in a different way in France,” said Mr. Manning with extraordinary seriousness; “but upon my word, I don’t like to be the first to start the custom here.”

[Pg 172]

“I am sure there would be no regret in the case,” said Eugene warmly. “As little girls are concerned, Mademoiselle Virgie is one of the healthiest and the best-tempered. A suitable dowry being attached to her, she will have the benefit of my beau nom, as one says in France. And will she not rejoice to be madame la comtesse?”

“She will be too sensible a girl to hang her happiness on a title, I hope,” said Mr. Manning; “and though you seem a decent enough boy now, you may grow up to be a scamp.”

Eugene’s little straight back grew more rigid than before. “I am a de Vargas,” he said with an expression of proud and conscious superiority. “There are no scamps in our family.”

Mr. Manning twisted his lips to conceal the inward laughter that was consuming him. “Granted that you are not going to be a scamp, how will you earn your bread?”

“By my sword.”

“But there doesn’t seem to be much use for swords nowadays. The sentiment of to-day is[Pg 173] against war; and I would rather have a whole son-in-law, not one that somebody is going to carve to pieces.”

“But the army must be maintained. I shall be an officer, and hold myself ready for war.”

“Oh! I see. Well, to come back to my starting-point, I don’t like this plan. It’s too one-sided—too sure for you, too risky for my daughter.”

“Are not American girls equal to French girls who do this?”

“Yes, I daresay; but I prefer an American husband for my child. I know that French people look out for money. You won’t let your army officers marry without getting a certain amount with a wife, I have heard; but somehow or other the thing does not commend itself to me. I don’t believe in marrying for money.”

“But we do not do that,” exclaimed Eugene. “Oh! you are rashly mistaken. A Frenchman does not marry to obtain gold. It is to protect his wife. Some money is necessary to be assured to her; it is rarely enough to maintain[Pg 174] a carriage and a table. All women like the arrangement—otherwise, why would mothers marry their daughters if they themselves have been unhappy?”

“I tell you what I’ll do,” said Mr. Manning with prodigious gravity. “As I have told you, I don’t like to be the first to launch this newfangled thing in America. I believe I would be mobbed if I started to go do............