In the course of the next few months Laperouse covered himself with glory by his services on the Amazon, the ASTREE, and the sceptre, and he hoped that these exploits would incline his father to accede to his ardent wish.  But no; the old gentleman was as hard as a rock.  He “tut-tutted” with as much vigour as ever.  The lovers had to wait.

Then his mother, full of love for her son and of pride in his achievements, took a hand, and tried to arrange a more suitable match for him.  An old friend of the family, Madame de Vesian had a marriageable daughter.  She was rich and beautiful, and her lineage was noble.  She had never seen Laperouse, and he had never seen her, but that was an insignificant detail in France under the old Regime.  If the parents on each side thought the marriage suitable, that was enough.  The wishes of the younger people concerned were, it is true, consulted before the betrothal, but it was often a consultation merely in form, and under pressure.  We should think that way of making marriages most unsatisfactory; but then, a French family of position in the old days would have thought our freer system very shocking and loose.  It is largely a matter of usage; and that the old plan, which seems so faulty to us, produced very many happy and lasting unions, there is much delightful French family history to prove.

Laperouse had now been many months away from Ile-de-France and the bright eyes of Eleonore.  He was extremely fond of his mother, and anxious to meet her wishes.  Moreover, he held Madame de Vesian in high esteem, and wrote that he “had always admired her, and felt sure that her daughter resembled her.”  These influences swayed him, and he gave way; but, being frank and honest by disposition, insisted that no secret should be made of his affair of the heart with the lady across the sea.  He wrote to Madame de Vesian a candid letter, in which he said:—­

“Being extremely sensitive, I should be the most unfortunate of men if I were not beloved by my wife, if I had not her complete confidence, if her life amongst her friends and children did not render her perfectly happy.  I desire one day to regard you as a mother, and to-day I open my heart to you as my best friend.  I authorise my mother to relate to you my old love affair.  My heart has always been a romance (mon coeur A TOUJOURS ETE un roman); and the more I sacrificed prudence to those whom I loved the happier I was.  But I cannot forget the respect that I owe to my parents and to their wishes.  I hope that in a little while I shall be free.  If then I have a favourable reply from you, and if I can make your daughter happy and my character is approved, I shall fly to Albi and embrace you a thousand times.  I shall not distinguish you from my mother and my sisters.”