"They are two charming men--charming, that expresses it. Much too good for a--" "Madcap like me. Agreed. Why do you let mama put things into your head, you, who have such sound judgment? It is shameful!" Now, nothing irritates papa so much as the discovery of mama's exaggerated influence over him. "Put things into my head! Put things into my head, indeed! I will not permit you to say that your mother puts things into my head. I can judge men at a glance. The duke (papa was a prefect under the Empire) used always to say: 'Givernay--he is my hand and eye.' Do you know that, little one?" I should think I know the saying of the duke. At the age of three I had already heard it told so often in the family that I never said "papa" without immediately adding "hand," "eye." "Why, papa dear, you know very well that I am of the duke's opinion, and that is the reason I want you to guide me a little with your experience. I am not a judge of men myself, and suppose both these gentlemen should please me next Thursday?" Evidently this contingency had not been thought of. And, nevertheless, suppose I should be smitten with both of them, with the one who is no longer young, and with him who is not yet thirty? Papa's eye, celebrated by Morny, grew large and round. He reflected. How amused I was! "These two gentlemen," said he finally, "are certainly both capable of pleasing. However, I know one of them better, and therefore am disposed to favor him. He is a companion of the Imperial, Monsieur de Nivert, forty-three, cultured and high-spirited." "What does he do?" Papa wrinkled his brow and racked his brain in an endeavor to think what Monsieur de Nivert could possibly do; after which he concluded, pitiably enough: "I believe he doesn't do anything!" And then he immediately resorted to mama's mode of defense; he considered the two collectively. "But, on the other hand," said he, "the other gentleman is a young man with a brilliant future. He is Judge of the Exchequer, and not yet thirty. Just think of it! Gaston Salandier will be director-general of a great administration some day, or a minister, perhaps. And then he is very good looking." Poor Monsieur de Nivert! It seems after all that his most brilliant qualities are possessed by Monsieur Salandier! This freak of Dame Fortune begins to make me sympathetic. "But," said I, after a few moments' reflection, "it seems to me that mama was hesitating among four possible matches for me, and not between two." Papa smiled. "Yes; but after thoroughly considering the candidates, we have decided that two only are worthy of the prettiest girl in Paris. For," he added, kissing me, "you are the prettiest girl in Paris." Poor papa, I should like a husband like him. And just think how desperate mama makes him!