"Not M'sieur le Curé? Who, then?" "It is for you, Francine. Sit down." "I? I, M'sieur le Comte?" "Sit down. I wish it." Francine took three steps backward and so as to command the exit, stopped and stared at her master, with mingled amazement and distrust. "My dear Francine," continued the Comte, "I am tired of eating alone. It is bad for the digestion. And I am bored. I have need of society. So sit down." "M'sieur orders it?" "I ask it as a favor, Francine." Francine, with open eyes, advanced doubtfully, seating herself nicely on the chair, more astonished than complimented, and more alarmed than pleased. "Ah, that is nicer!" said the Comte, with an approving nod. "How have I endured it all these years! Francine, you may help yourself to the wine." The astonished maid-of-all-work, who had swallowed a spoon of soup with great discomfort, sprang up, all in a tremble, stammering with defiant virtue: "M'sieur le Comte does not forget that I am an honest woman!" "No, my dear Francine; I am certain of it. So sit down in peace. I will tell you the situation." Francine hesitated, then, reassured by the devotion he gave to his soup, settled once more in her chair. "Francine, I have made up my mind to one thing," said the Comte, filling his glass with such energy that a red circle appeared on the cloth. "This life I lead is all wrong. A man is a sociable being. He needs society. Isolation sends him back to the brute." "Oh, yes, M'sieur le Comte," said Francine, who understood nothing. "So I am resolved to marry." "M'sieur will marry!" cried Francine, who spilled half her soup with the shock. "Perfectly. It is for that I have asked you to keep me company." "M'sieur--you--M'sieur wants to marry me!" "Parbleu!" "M'sieur--M'sieur wants to marry me!" "I ask you formally to be my wife." "I?" "M'sieur wants--wants me to be Comtesse de Bonzag?" "Immediately." "Oh!" Springing up, Francine stood a moment gazing at him in frightened alarm; then, with a cry, she vanished heavily through the door. "She has gone to Andoche," said the Comte, angrily to himself. "She loves him!" In great perturbation he left the room promenading on the esplanade, in the midst of his hounds, talking uneasily to himself. "_Peste_, I put it to her a little too suddenly! It was a blunder. If she loves that Sapeur-Pompier, eh? A Sapeur-Pompier, to rival a Comte de Bonzag--faugh!" Suddenly, below in the moonlight, he beheld Andoche tearing himself from the embrace of Francine, and, not to be seen, he returned nervously to the dining-room. Shortly after, the maid-of-all-work returned, calm, but with telltale eyes. "Well, Francine, did I frighten you?" said the Comte, genially. "Oh, yes, M'sieur le Comte--" "Well, what do you want to say?" "M'sieur was in real earnest?" "Never more so." "M'sieur really wants to make me the Comtesse de Bonzag?" "_Dame!_ I tell you my intentions are honorable." "M'sieur will let me ask him one question?" "A dozen even."