“But you must choose between pleasing yourself and pleasing him.”

“I want to please every one!” exclaimed Felix, joyously.  “I have a good conscience.  I made up my mind at the outset that it was not my place to make love to Gertrude.”

“So, to simplify matters, she made love to you!”

Felix looked at his sister with sudden gravity.  “You say you are not afraid of her,” he said.  “But perhaps you ought to be—­a little.  She ’s a very clever person.”

“I begin to see it!” cried the Baroness.  Her brother, making no rejoinder, leaned back in his chair, and there was a long silence.  At last, with an altered accent, Madame Munster put another question.  “You expect, at any rate, to marry?”

“I shall be greatly disappointed if we don’t.”

“A disappointment or two will do you good!” the Baroness declared.  “And, afterwards, do you mean to turn American?”

“It seems to me I am a very good American already.  But we shall go to Europe.  Gertrude wants extremely to see the world.”

“Ah, like me, when I came here!” said the Baroness, with a little laugh.

“No, not like you,” Felix rejoined, looking at his sister with a certain gentle seriousness.  While he looked at her she rose from her chair, and he also got up.  “Gertrude is not at all like you,” he went on; “but in her own way she is almost as clever.”  He paused a moment; his soul was full of an agreeable feeling and of a lively disposition to express it.  His sister, to his spiritual vision, was always like the lunar disk when only a part of it is lighted.  The shadow on this bright surface seemed to him to expand and to contract; but whatever its proportions, he always appreciated the moonlight.  He looked at the Baroness, and then he kissed her.  “I am very much in love with Gertrude,” he said.  Eugenia turned away and walked about the room, and Felix continued.  “She is very interesting, and very different from what she seems.  She has never had a chance.  She is very brilliant.  We will go to Europe and amuse ourselves.”

The Baroness had gone to the window, where she stood looking out.  The day was drearier than ever; the rain was doggedly falling.  “Yes, to amuse yourselves,” she said at last, “you had decidedly better go to Europe!” Then she turned round, looking at her brother.  A chair stood near her; she leaned her hands upon the back of it.  “Don’t you think it is very good of me,” she asked, “to come all this way with you simply to see you properly married—­if properly it is?”

“Oh, it will be properly!” cried Felix, with light eagerness.

The Baroness gave a little laugh.  “You are thinking only of yourself, and you don’t answer my question.  While you are amusing yourself—­with the brilliant Gertrude—­what shall I be doing?”

“Vous serez de la partie!” cried Felix.

“Thank you:  I should spoil it.”  The Baroness dropped her eyes for some moments.  “Do you propose, however, to leave me here?” she inquired.