“Oh, too wealthy—­too wealthy a match for me; and then she is not the kind of little person to go and bury in a garrison town in Algeria.  She is a Parisian, a true Parisian, who wants to amuse herself, and who will amuse herself.”

“Just what I want, absolutely just what I want.  I too wish to amuse myself.  She will amuse herself, I shall amuse myself, we will amuse ourselves.”

Young Raoul was in a frenzy, and as soon as he had finished his luncheon he scrawled a new despatch on the restaurant table to his father, and, while writing, talked very excitedly.

“I’ll send my despatch from Dijon, and I’ll address it to the club; papa will be there about five o’clock, and also the father of this little marvel.  They can immediately discuss the affair.  Shall I ask for an answer at Lyons?  The time-table, pass me the time-table.  Lyons, 5.25.  No, that would be too short.  Answer at Marseilles.  They stop at Marseilles?  Yes?  For twenty-four hours?  All right, so do I. At what hotel?  Hotel de Noailles?  All right, so do I. So answer Hotel de Noailles.  My despatch is very good.  You will see.  As good as the other—­better, even.  I’ve the knack of telegrams to-day.  Yes, it’s very good.”

He wrote and wrote; he was inspired, he was animated; he made a few more mistakes than usual in spelling, that was all—­it was emotion.  He reread his despatch with complaisance, he made Maurice read it, who could not help thinking the incident funny.  Raoul counted the words of his despatch—­there were about a hundred and fifty—­and calling the waiter of the dining-car, he said, “Send this telegram off for me at Dijon.  Here are ten francs; there will be two or three over for you.”

Then turning at once to Maurice he asked, “Is that enough?”

“Why certainly.”

“Well, for such a marriage—­ah, my dear fellow, you sail to-morrow at what time?”

“At two o’clock.”

“Oh, we have plenty of time, then; all will be settled by two o’clock.”

“Oh, settled; you’re crazy!”

“Not at all; it’s already very far advanced, since it’s papa’s Number Three.  I only ask one thing of you:  present me to the mother shortly.  After that let me alone.  I’ll manage everything; only, at any cost, we must leave our car and find two arm-chairs in the same car, and near my mother-in-law.”

“Your mother-in-law!”

“That’s what I said; my mother-in-law.  Once the two arm-chairs are procured, I am master of the situation.  You don’t know me.  I already know what I shall say to the mother, what I shall say to my young brother-in-law (he is very nice), and what I shall say to my future bride.  I shall have made a conquest of all of them before we reach Lyons.  Lyons?  No; that’s going a little fast—­say Valence or Montelimar.  Pass me the time-table again.  Let us settle everything, and leave nothing to chance.  Oh, look at her!  She has nibbled nuts for the last fifteen minutes,