“I am not going to ask you,” she continued, “whether you are in love with my little girl or not, because the whole thing is too ridiculous.  I have no doubt that she has some sort of a fancy for you.  It is evident that she has.  I want you to remember that she is fresh from school, that as yet she has not entered life, and that a few months ago she did not know a man from a gate-post.”

“An admirable simile,” Andrew murmured.

“What I want you to understand is,” the Princess continued, “that as yet she cannot possibly be in a position to make up her mind as to her future.  She has seen nothing of the world, and what she has seen has been the least favourable side.  She has a perfectly enormous fortune, so ridiculously tied up that although I am never out of debt and always borrowing money, I cannot touch a penny of it, not even with her help.  Very soon she will be of age, and the amount of her fortune will be known.  I can assure you that it will be a surprise to every one.”

Andrew bowed his head indifferently.

“Very possibly,” he answered, “and yet, madam, if your daughter has the wisdom to see that the matter of her wealth is after all but a trifle amongst the conditions which make for happiness, why should you deny her the benefits of that wisdom?”

“My dear friend,” she continued earnestly, “for this reason—­because Jeanne to-day is too young to choose for herself.  She has not got over that sickly sentimental age, when a girl makes a hero of anything unusual in the shape of a man, and finds a sort of unwholesome satisfaction in making sacrifices for his sake.  It may be that Jeanne may, after all, look to what you call the simple life for happiness.  Well, if she does that after a year or so, well and good.  But she shall not do so with my consent, without indeed my downright opposition, until she has had an opportunity of testing both sides, of weighing the matter thoroughly from every point of view.  Do you not agree with me, Mr. De la Borne?”

“You speak reasonably, madam,” he assented.

“Jeanne,” she continued, “has perhaps charmed you a little.  She is, after all, just now a child of nature.  She is something of an artist, too.  Beautiful places and sights and sounds appeal to her.

“She is ready, with her imperfect experience, to believe that there is nothing greater or better worth cultivating in life.  But I want you to consider the effects of heredity.  Jeanne comes from restless, brilliant people.  Her mother was a leader of society, a pleasure-loving, clever, unscrupulous woman.  Her father was a financier and a diplomat, many-sided, versatile, but with as complex a disposition as any man I ever met.  Jeanne will ripen as the years go on; something of her mother, something of her father will appear.  It is my place, knowing these things, to see that she does not make a fatal mistake.  All that I say to you, Mr. De la Borne, is to let her go, to give her her chance, to let her see with both eyes before she does anything irremediable.  I think that I may almost appeal to you, as a reasonable man and a gentleman, to help me in this.”