The doctor proved a key, and opened the enchanted castle.  One fine day he presented his friend in the Pleasaunce to the baroness and her daughters.

They received him with perfect politeness.  Thus introduced, and as he was not one to let the grass grow under his feet, he soon obtained a footing as friend of the family, which, being now advised by Josephine, he took care not to compromise by making love to Rose before the baroness.  However, he insisted on placing his financial talent at their service.  He surveyed and valued their lands, and soon discovered that all their farms were grossly underlet.  Luckily most of the leases were run out.  He prepared a new rent roll, and showed it Aubertin, now his fast friend.  Aubertin at his request obtained a list of the mortgages, and Edouard drew a balance-sheet founded on sure data, and proved to the baroness that in able hands the said estate was now solvent.

This was a great comfort to the old lady:  and she said to Aubertin, “Heaven has sent us a champion, a little republican—­with the face of an angel.”

Descending to practice, Edouard actually put three of the farms into the market, and let them at an advance of twenty per cent on the expired leases.  He brought these leases signed; and the baroness had scarcely done thanking him, when her other secret friend, Monsieur Perrin, was announced.  Edouard exchanged civilities with him, and then retired to the Pleasaunce.  There he found both sisters, who were all tenderness and gratitude to him.  By this time he had learned to value Josephine:  she was so lovely and so good, and such a true womanly friend to him.  Even Rose could not resist her influence, and was obliged to be kind to him, when Josephine was by.  But let Josephine go, and instead of her being more tender, as any other girl would, left alone with her lover, sauciness resumed its empire till sweet Josephine returned.  Whereof cometh an example; for the said Josephine was summoned to a final conference with the baroness and Monsieur Perrin.

“Don’t be long,” said Rose, as Josephine glided away, and (taking the precaution to wait till she was quite out of hearing), “I shall be so dull, dear, till you come back.”

“I shall not though,” said Edouard.

“I am not so sure of that.  Now then.”

“Now then, what?”

“Begin.”

“Begin what?”

“Amusing me.”  And she made herself look sullen and unamusable all over.

“I will try,” said Riviere.  “I’ll tell you what they say of you:  that you are too young to love.”

“So I am, much.”

“No, no, no!  I made a mistake.  I mean too young to be loved.”

“Oh, I am not too young for that, not a bit.”

This point settled, she suggested that, if he could not amuse her, he had better do the next best thing, and that was, talk sense.

“I think I had better not talk at all,” said he, “for I am no match for such a nimble tongue.  And then you are so remorseless.  I’ll hold my tongue, and make a sketch of this magnificent oak.”