Tremont found her charming, though in this role of Florence Nightingale, she puzzled and perplexed him. She was nevertheless adorable. The young man had the good sense to make a discreet courtship and understood she would not be easily won. Until they reached Algiers, indeed, until the night before they disembarked, he had not said one word to her which might not have been shared by her aunt. In accordance with the French custom, they never were alone. The marquise shut her eyes and napped considerably and gave them every opportunity she could, but she was always present. The Duc de Tremont had been often in love during his short life. He was a Latin and thought that women are made to be loved. It was part of his education to think this and to tell them this, and he also believed it a proof of his good taste to tell them this as soon as possible. He was a thoroughly fine fellow. Some of his forefathers had fought and fallen in Agincourt. They had been dukes ever since. There was something distinctly noble in the blond young man, and Julia discovered it. Possibly she had felt it from the first. Some women are keen to feel. Perhaps if she had _not_ felt it she might even have hesitated to go to Algiers as his guest. From the moment that the old duchess had said to Robert de Tremont: "Julia Redmond is a great catch, my dear boy. I should like to have you marry her," her son answered: "_Bien, ma mère_," with cheerful acquiescence, and immediately considered it and went to Tarascon, to the Château d'Esclignac. When his mother had suggested the visit, he told her that he intended making up a party for the Mediterranean. "Why don't you take your godmother and the American girl? Miss Redmond has an income of nearly a million francs and they say she is well-bred." "Very good, _ma mère_." When he saw Miss Redmond he found her lovely; not so lovely as the Comtesse de la Maine, whose invitation to dinner he had refused on the day his mother suggested the Château d'Esclignac. The comtesse was a widow. It is not very, very _comme il faut_ to marry a widow, in the Faubourg St.-Germain. Miss Redmond's beauty was different. She was self-absorbed and cold. He did not understand her at all, but that was the American of her. One of his friends had married an American girl and found out afterward that she chewed gum before breakfast. _Pauvre_ Raymond! Miss Redmond did not suggest such possibilities. Still she was very different to a French _jeune fille_. With his godmother he was entirely at ease. Ever since she had paid his trifling debts when he was a young man, he had adored her. Tremont, always discreet and almost in love with his godmother, kept her in a state of great good humor always, and when she had suggested to him this little party he had been delighted. In speaking over the telephone the Marquise d'Esclignac had said very firmly: "My dear Robert, you understand that this excursion engages you to nothing."