The Princess laughed, a little unpleasantly.

“My dear child,” she said, “you may make a fuss about it, but eventually you will have to marry whom I say.  You must remember that you are French, not English, and that I am your guardian.  If you want to choose for yourself, you will have to wait three or four years before the law allows you to do so.”

“Then I will wait three or four years,” Jeanne answered quietly.  “I have no idea of marrying the Count de Brensault.”

The Princess raised herself a little on her couch.

“Child,” she said, “you would try any one’s patience.  Only a month or so ago you told me that you were quite indifferent as to whom you might marry.  You were content to allow me to select some one suitable.”  “A few months,” Jeanne answered, “are sometimes a very long time.  My views have changed since then.”

“You mean,” the Princess said, “that you have met some one whom you wish to marry?”

“Perhaps so,” Jeanne answered.  “At any rate I will not marry the Count de Brensault.”

The Princess’ face had darkened.

“I do not wish to quarrel with you, Jeanne,” she said, “but I think that you will.  Whom else is it that you are thinking of?  Is it our island fisherman who has taken your fancy?”

“Does that matter?” Jeanne answered calmly.  “Is it not sufficient if I say that I will not marry the Count de Brensault.”

“No, it is not quite sufficient,” the Princess remarked coldly.  “You will either marry the man whom I have chosen, or give me some definite and clear reason for your refusal.”

“One very definite and clear reason,” Jeanne remarked, “is that I do not like the Count de Brensault.  I think that he is a noisy, forward, and offensive young man.”

“His income is nearly fifty thousand a year,” the Princess remarked, “so he must be forgiven a few eccentricities of manner.”

“His income,” Jeanne said, “scarcely matters, does it?  If my money is ever to do anything for me, it should at least enable me to choose a husband for myself.”

“That’s where you girls always make such absurd mistakes,” the Princess remarked.  “You get an idea or a liking into your mind, and you hold on to it like wax.  You forget that the times may change, new people may come, the old order of things may pass altogether away.  Suppose, for instance, you were to lose your money?”

“I should not be sorry,” Jeanne answered calmly.  “I should at least be sure that I was not any longer an article of merchandise.  I could lead my own life, and marry whom I pleased.”

The Princess laughed scornfully.

“Men do not take to themselves penniless brides nowadays,” she remarked.

“Some men—­” Jeanne began.

The Princess interrupted her.

“Bah!” she said.  “You are thinking of your island fisherman again.  I see by the papers that he has gone away.  He is very wise.  He may be a very excellent person, but the whole world could not hold a less suitable husband for you.”