“Francine, I have made up my mind to one thing,” said the Comte, filling his glass with such energy that a red circle appeared on the cloth.  “This life I lead is all wrong.  A man is a sociable being.  He needs society.  Isolation sends him back to the brute.”

“Oh, yes, M’sieur le Comte,” said Francine, who understood nothing.

“So I am resolved to marry.”

“M’sieur will marry!” cried Francine, who spilled half her soup with the shock.

“Perfectly.  It is for that I have asked you to keep me company.”

“M’sieur—­you—­M’sieur wants to marry me!”

“Parbleu!”

“M’sieur—­M’sieur wants to marry me!”

“I ask you formally to be my wife.”

“I?”

“M’sieur wants—­wants me to be Comtesse de Bonzag?”

“Immediately.”

“Oh!”

Springing up, Francine stood a moment gazing at him in frightened alarm; then, with a cry, she vanished heavily through the door.

“She has gone to Andoche,” said the Comte, angrily to himself.  “She loves him!”

In great perturbation he left the room promenading on the esplanade, in the midst of his hounds, talking uneasily to himself.

“Peste, I put it to her a little too suddenly!  It was a blunder.  If she loves that Sapeur-Pompier, eh?  A Sapeur-Pompier, to rival a Comte de Bonzag—­faugh!”

Suddenly, below in the moonlight, he beheld Andoche tearing himself from the embrace of Francine, and, not to be seen, he returned nervously to the dining-room.

Shortly after, the maid-of-all-work returned, calm, but with telltale eyes.

“Well, Francine, did I frighten you?” said the Comte, genially.

“Oh, yes, M’sieur le Comte—­”

“Well, what do you want to say?”

“M’sieur was in real earnest?”

“Never more so.”

“M’sieur really wants to make me the Comtesse de Bonzag?”

“Dame! I tell you my intentions are honorable.”

“M’sieur will let me ask him one question?”

“A dozen even.”

“M’sieur remembers that I am a widow—­”

“With one child, yes.”

“M’sieur, pardon me; I have been thinking much, and I have been thinking of my little girl.  What would M’sieur want me to do?”

The Comte reflected, and said generously:  “I do not adopt her; but, if you like, she shall live here.”

“Then, M’sieur,” said Francine, dropping on her knees, “I thank M’sieur very much.  M’sieur is too kind, too good—­”

“So, it is decided then,” said the Comte, rising joyfully.

“Oh, yes, M’sieur.”

“Then we shall go to-morrow,” said the Comte.  “It is my manner; I like to do things instantly.  Stand up, I beg you, Madame.”

“To-morrow, M’sieur?”

“Yes, Madame.  Have you any objections?”

“Oh, no, M’sieur le Comte; on the contrary,” said Francine, blushing with pleasure at the twice-repeated “Madame.”  Then she added carefully:  “M’sieur is quite right; it would be better.  People talk so.”