All the elder people fixed their eyes on me with gravity, and Madeleine afterwards told me her heart stopped beating; while Gabrielle struggled with a disposition to laugh.

“My views are,” returned I, boldly, “to follow my honored father, step by step, and, his concurrence obtained, to get betrothed as fast as I can.”

“Well said, my boy,” said my father, heartily, while every face wore a broad smile but one, which was mantling with blushes.

“Provided,” continued I, “that I may choose the young lady.”

“Let us know where your choice will fall,” said my father, trying to keep the corners of his mouth in order, while M. Bourdinave scarcely suppressed a chuckle.

I stepped across the room, and took Madeleine’s hand.  “Here is my choice,” said I, “if she will have me.  We have known each other from childhood.”

Madeleine instantly snatched her hand away, and covered her face.  However, the next moment her father joined our hands, and gave us his blessing; and then we were bewildered with congratulations and good auguries; and Master Brignolles gave us a world of good advice, and offered a prayer; and my father gave me a ring of betrothal to put on her finger, and thus we became plighted to one another.

The rest of our stay at Beaucaire passed like a dream, and its brightness yet remained while we pursued our homeward journey.  Madeleine sat close behind me this time, and on her knee was little Jules Lefevre, whom we had taken in charge of because his father’s wagon was over-full.  He had something clasped tight in his hand, which he unclosed for a moment at Madeleine’s request, and gave her a glimpse of a little “Agnus Dei,” which he said had been given him by “the pretty lady.”  How or when she had done so, we never made out.  Madeleine tried to get it from him; but he resisted with all his might, saying it was “his own.”

“It must be confessed,” said Gabrielle, “that the Catholic churches have much more in them to attract the eye than our plain temples.”

“Who denies it?” said I.  “Their appeals are to the outward senses, which never influence the heart.”

“I think my heart would be very much influenced by them,” said Gabrielle, “if I had not been brought up to think them wrong.”

“I cannot bear to hear you talk in that way, sister,” said Madeleine.  “Pray, do not seem indifferent to the blessings of a purer faith.”

Gabrielle pouted, and said, “Indifferent? no; but perhaps if you and I had been brought up Catholics, we might have been as positive we held the purer faith as we are now that we are of the Reformed.”

“A very good thing, then, that you were not so brought up,” said I, “for then I should not have been betrothed to Madeleine;” and to prevent her pursuing so unpleasant a subject, I lifted up my voice and sang.  Little Jules presently dropped asleep in Madeleine’s arms, and his little fat fingers unclosing, the dangerous bauble dropped from them, and, by a dexterous touch of my whip, I flicked it into the road.  By-and-by, awaking, he cried for it, and beat Madeleine with his tiny fists; nor was pacified till his attention was diverted by an almost interminable file of mules, with their five or six olive-faced muleteers in brown jackets and red sashes.