"Alas! he is only too certain to find me; I cannot budge from my armchair. You see the melancholy proof of that," added the old sailor, pointing to his dry and weedy flower borders. "My poor garden is nearly burnt up. Mamma Barbancon has been too busy to attend to it; besides, my illness seems to have put her all out of sorts. I suggested asking the porter to water the flowers every day or two; but you should have heard how she answered me. 'Bring strangers into the house to steal and destroy everything!' You know what a temper the good woman has, and I dared not insist, so you can see what a terrible condition my poor flowers are in." "Never mind, uncle; I am back now, and I will act as your head gardener," said Olivier, gaily. "I have thought of it before, and if I had not been obliged to go out early this morning on business, you would have found your garden all weeded, and fresh as a rose sparkling with dew when you woke this morning. But to-morrow morning,--well, you shall see!" The commander was about to thank Olivier when Madame Barbancon opened the door and asked if M. Gerald could come in. "I should say he could come in!" exclaimed the old naval officer, gaily, as Olivier advanced to meet his friend. "Thank heaven! his master mason has returned him to us at last," exclaimed the veteran, pointing to Olivier. "Hopeless chaos seemed to reign in the worthy man's estimates," replied Olivier, "and when they were at last adjusted, the manager of the property, struck by my fine handwriting and symmetrical figures, asked me to straighten out some accounts of his, and I consented. But now I think of it, do you know, Gerald, who owns the magnificent chateau in which I spent the last two months?" "I haven't the slightest idea." "Well, the Marquise of Carabas." "What Marquise of Carabas?" "The enormously wealthy heiress you were talking to us about before I went away." "Mlle. de Beaumesnil?" exclaimed Gerald, in profound astonishment. "The same. This magnificent estate belongs to her and yields her a yearly income of twenty thousand livres; and it seems that she has dozens of such properties." "What the devil can one do with so much money?" exclaimed the veteran. "It is certainly a strange coincidence," murmured Gerald, thoughtfully. "And why?" "Because there is a possibility of my marrying Mlle. de Beaumesnil." "Indeed, M. Gerald," said the veteran, artlessly, "so a desire to marry has seized you since I saw you last?" "So you are in love with Mlle. de Beaumesnil?" asked Olivier, no less naively. Gerald, surprised at these questions, replied, after a moment of reflection: