Madame Legier wrote two letters--one to Léon in which she said if he was sure of getting £500 a year, and the girl was healthy--and agreed to bring up the children as Catholics--she supposed it was better to close with it, though Heaven knew how they would fit things in, the English temperament being as stubborn as wood, and his father most unaccommodating when he was there; and another letter to Rose in which she welcomed her into the family and said what confidence she had in Léon’s choice, and how she and her husband looked forward to the brightening of their future lives by the sight of their children’s happiness. Monsieur Legier wrote a third letter which Mrs. Pinsent translated to her husband. He said something about a lawyer in it, but Mr. Pinsent said nothing would induce him to see a French lawyer, English ones were bad enough. Rose didn’t give anybody time to do much more. She announced that she wanted to be married at once and spend her honeymoon at Capri. She could buy what she needed in Rome and finish getting her trousseau together in Paris. She had set her heart on going to Capri for her honeymoon and there wasn’t any use anybody saying anything. She didn’t even pay much attention to Léon, who ventured on one occasion to wonder if Capri was very gay? “We sha’n’t want to be gay,” Rose said a little soberly. “We shall just be perfectly happy.” Léon said no more. Of course he expected to be happy, but he had never in his life been happy when he wasn’t a little gay. Rose saw very little of Léon during their brief engagement. They were both immersed in preparations for the wedding, but the little she saw was like the vision of a Fairy Prince. He was gallant, delicate and intent. Nothing about Rose escaped him. He knew with a marvelous tact from moment to moment what would please her best. It was (but of course Rose didn’t know this) the correct attitude for a Frenchman engaged to be married. As the marriage approached, Mrs. Pinsent had moments of secret doubt. She knew it was very silly of her, but Rose was her youngest child, and marriage by two consuls and a Cardinal wasn’t at all like being married properly in your own church at home. She went so far one evening as to go into Rose’s bedroom under the pretext of borrowing her hairbrush, just to see if her child was quite happy. Mrs. Pinsent’s hair was long and thick like Rose’s, it had been the same color when she was Rose’s age. She sat in an armchair by the bed and thought that Rose, whose hair was done in two long plaits, looked terribly like she used to look when she was ten years old. “My dear,” she said, “I like Léon so much.” Rose smiled and blushed and snuggled further into the rather hard second pillow reluctantly conceded to her by the Hotel le Roy. “Yes, Mamma, I know,” she said, “and he loves you--isn’t it nice?”