“Well, that is not so unreasonable. Young people of course like a little pleasure; and the very best people--gens comme il faut--will all be on foot in the streets to-day. But I trust, M. Henri,” the old lady added more gravely as the two were left alone together, “that you may never regret having thrown your influence into the scale of this Russian. Even supposing the young man to be the most desirable _parti_ in the world, think of the banishment from civilized society, and the frightful climate of St. Petersburg! Clémence might have done better--much better. Not to speak of M. de Cranfort, a very excellent person, _bien rangé_, and with a sufficient property, who is a constant visitor here, and I believe not indifferent to your sister, there are others by no means to be despised.” “I suspect M. Ivan has heard something of a certain M. de Sartines which has disquieted him.” “What can he have heard of _him_?” “I do not know exactly; but the idea seems to have been given that he aspires to the hand of Clémence.” “Oh, as for _that_, it must be a mistake! M. de Sartines has but just returned to Paris after an exile of several years. If in former days he had any _penchant_, I believe it was--do not laugh, Henri--for the mother, not the daughter. My own ideas for Clémence--not that there is any use in expressing them now--pointed, I must confess, in a different direction. I am not rich, but these are evil days, and it is something to have saved from the wreck of a fine fortune even so much as I have contrived to do--for Emile.” A faint, delicate flush overspread the furrowed cheeks of the old lady as she uttered the name she loved best in the world, and added, with a little tender hesitation that was almost touching, “I am very fond of your sister, M. Henri.” “I know it, ma tante,” said Henri, kissing her hand. “I can never be half grateful enough for all your goodness to her, and to my dear mother. But I am sure Clémence will be happy, and that you are kind and generous enough to rejoice in her happiness.” He went to the door of his sister’s room, and knocked. After a slight pause, his knock was answered by a gentle “Come in” from Madame de Talmont. Mother and daughter stood together at the window, and traces of tears were on both their faces. Henri made his request that Clémence would accompany him into the town; and Madame de Talmont, who did not like to deny him anything, decided that she had better go. Clémence would far rather have stayed at home; but she yielded, as usual, to the wishes of her mother.