Felix smiled at her.  “My dearest sister, where you are concerned I never propose.  I execute your commands.”

“I believe,” said Eugenia, slowly, “that you are the most heartless person living.  Don’t you see that I am in trouble?”

“I saw that you were not cheerful, and I gave you some good news.”

“Well, let me give you some news,” said the Baroness.  “You probably will not have discovered it for yourself.  Robert Acton wants to marry me.”

“No, I had not discovered that.  But I quite understand it.  Why does it make you unhappy?”

“Because I can’t decide.”

“Accept him, accept him!” cried Felix, joyously.  “He is the best fellow in the world.”

“He is immensely in love with me,” said the Baroness.

“And he has a large fortune.  Permit me in turn to remind you of that.”

“Oh, I am perfectly aware of it,” said Eugenia.  “That ’s a great item in his favor.  I am terribly candid.”  And she left her place and came nearer her brother, looking at him hard.  He was turning over several things; she was wondering in what manner he really understood her.

There were several ways of understanding her:  there was what she said, and there was what she meant, and there was something, between the two, that was neither.  It is probable that, in the last analysis, what she meant was that Felix should spare her the necessity of stating the case more exactly and should hold himself commissioned to assist her by all honorable means to marry the best fellow in the world.  But in all this it was never discovered what Felix understood.

“Once you have your liberty, what are your objections?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t particularly like him.”

“Oh, try a little.”

“I am trying now,” said Eugenia.  “I should succeed better if he did n’t live here.  I could never live here.”

“Make him go to Europe,” Felix suggested.

“Ah, there you speak of happiness based upon violent effort,” the Baroness rejoined.  “That is not what I am looking for.  He would never live in Europe.”

“He would live anywhere, with you!” said Felix, gallantly.

His sister looked at him still, with a ray of penetration in her charming eyes; then she turned away again.  “You see, at all events,” she presently went on, “that if it had been said of me that I had come over here to seek my fortune it would have to be added that I have found it!”

“Don’t leave it lying!” urged Felix, with smiling solemnity.

“I am much obliged to you for your interest,” his sister declared, after a moment.  “But promise me one thing:  pas de zele!  If Mr. Acton should ask you to plead his cause, excuse yourself.”

“I shall certainly have the excuse,” said Felix, “that I have a cause of my own to plead.”

“If he should talk of me—­favorably,” Eugenia continued, “warn him against dangerous illusions.  I detest importunities; I want to decide at my leisure, with my eyes open.”