"The devil! so Monsieur Frédéric interests himself in it, does he? What might these plans be, mademoiselle?" "You should know better than I, uncle." "Gad! that's true, you're right. Well, yes, I have a plan of my own." "For my future, uncle?" asked Constance, in a trembling voice. "Yes, for your marriage, in fact." "Marriage! can it be possible? Oh! uncle----" And the sweet girl looked up at the general, with appealing eyes already filled with tears. "Come, come, calm yourself, morbleu!" exclaimed the general, taking her hand. "Here you are up in arms, as if I proposed to make you unhappy. Don't you want to marry?" "Oh! I don't say that, uncle." "Well, then, why this terror when I tell you that I think of giving you a husband?" "Why, because I want--I don't want----" "Because you want and don't want! Deuce take it! why can't a woman ever say what she means! Why don't you tell me at once that you don't want to marry anyone but Frédéric?" "Oh! uncle, did you know----" "I should have to be as blind as a bat not to know that; and this fine gentleman, who presumes to love my niece--and who sighs and is melancholy and tears his hair, instead of just coming to me and asking for her hand----" "Oh! my dear uncle--are you really willing?" "Parbleu! am I in the habit of not being willing to do anything you want?" "But this marriage with some colonel?" "That was a fable invented by my old friend--I don't quite know why; but he came to me and begged me to let him say that; I couldn't refuse to let him do as he chose, although I don't understand all this mystery; for it seems to me that when two young people love each other and are suited to each other, there's no need of marching and countermarching to marry them. But, no matter; Montreville has his tactics, and he's bound to follow them. Don't think of telling Frédéric this, for his father would be angry with me; but when he comes back, which will be soon, I'll put an end to all this prevarication, and give you to your lover, or he'll end by making himself ill with his sighing." Constance kissed her uncle and left him; the certainty of happiness made her more beautiful than ever. Frédéric soon returned, and inquired anxiously what her uncle had said to her. Constance tried to dissemble her joy; the most loving woman is not sorry to tease her lover a little now and then, for in his torments she sees fresh proofs of his love. "Well!" said Frédéric, impatiently; "why don't you answer me? You have spoken to your uncle about this proposed marriage--has he formed such a plan?" "Why, yes; he is thinking of marrying me." "Then I was right!" cried the young man, with an agitation that made Constance tremble; "he is thinking of it; my father told me the truth. But you shall not be stolen from my love----" "My dear, don't get excited."