“I cannot, I assure you.”

“Well, then, in ten days; but I give you fair notice, I shall install myself at Longueval, and shall not move.  In the first place it would please my mother; she is still a little prejudiced against the Americans.  She says that she shall arrange not to see them, but I know my mother.  Some day, when I shall go home in the evening and tell her:  ’Mother, I have won the-heart of a charming little person who is burdened with a capital of twenty millions—­they exaggerate when they talk of hundreds of millions.  You know these are the correct figures, and they are enough for me.  That evening, then, my mother will be delighted, because, in her heart, what is it she desires for me?  What all good mothers desire for their sons—­a good marriage, or a discreet liaison with some one in society.  At Longueval I find these two essentials, and I will accommodate myself very willingly to either.  You will have the kindness to warn me in ten days—­you will let me know which of the two you abandon to me, Mrs. Scott or Miss Percival?”

“You are mad, you are quite mad!  I do not, I never shall think—­”

“Listen, Jean.  You are wisdom personified; you may say and do as you like, but remember what I say to you, Jean, you will fall in love in that house.”

“I do not believe it,” replied Jean, laughing.

“But I am absolutely sure of it.  Good-by.  I leave you to your duties.”

That morning Jean was perfectly sincere.  He had slept very well the previous night; the second interview with the two sisters had, as if by enchantment, dissipated the slight trouble which had agitated his soul after the first meeting.  He prepared to meet them again with much pleasure, but also with much tranquillity; there was too much money in that house to permit the love of a poor devil like Jean to find place honestly there.

Friendship was another affair; with all his heart he wished, and with all his strength he sought, to establish himself peacefully in the esteem and regard of the sisters.  He would try not to remark too much the beauty of Susie and Bettina; he would try not to forget himself as he had done the previous evening, in the contemplation of the four little feet resting on their footstools.  They had said, very frankly, very cordially, to him:  “You shall be our friend.”  That was all he desired—­to be their friend—­and that he would be.

During the ten days that followed, all conduced to the success of this enterprise.  Susie, Bettina, the Cure, and Jean led the same life in the closest and most cordial intimacy.

Jean did not seek to analyze his feelings.  He felt for these two women an equal affection; he was perfectly happy, perfectly tranquil.  Then he was not in love, for love and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the same heart.

Jean, however, saw approach, with a little anxiety and sadness, the day which would bring to Longueval the Turners, and the Nortons, and the whole force of the American colony.  The day came too soon.