"But they'd laugh." "Let them," said Aunt Margaret grandly. "By-and-by they will bow down. Let me see." The young man took a card-case from his pocket, on which was stamped in gold a French count's coronet. "Ah! yes; that is right," said the old lady, snatching the case with trembling fingers, opening it, and taking out a card on which was also printed a coronet. "_Comte Henri des Vignes_," she read, in an excited manner, and with tears in her eyes. "My darling boy! that will carry conviction with it. I am very glad it is done." "Cost a precious lot, aunt; made a regular hole in your diamond ring." "Did you sell it?" "No; Vic Pradelle pawned it for me." "Ah! he is a friend of whom you may be proud, Henri." "Not a bad sort of fellow, aunt. He got precious little on the ring, though, and I spent it nearly all." "Never mind the ring, my boy, and I'm very glad you have the cards. Now for a little serious talk about the future." "Wish to goodness there was no future," said Harry glumly. "Would you like to talk about the past, then?" said the old lady playfully. "Wish there was no past neither," grumbled Harry. "Then we will talk about the present, my dear, and about--let me whisper to you--love!" She placed her thin lips close to her nephew's ear, and then held him at arm's length and smiled upon him proudly. "Love! Too expensive a luxury for me, auntie. I say, you are ruffling my hair so." "Too expensive, Henri? No, my darling boy; follow my advice, and the richest and fairest of the daughters of France shall sue for your hand, and be proud to take your noble name." "I say, auntie," he said laughingly, "aren't you laying on the colour rather thick?" "Not a bit, my darling; and that's why I want to talk to you about your sister's friend." "What, Maddy?" he said eagerly; "then you approve of it." "Approve! Bah! you are jesting, my dear. I approve of your making an alliance with a fat Dutch fraulein!" "Oh, come, aunt!" said Harry, looking nettles; "Madelaine is not Dutch, nor yet fat." "I know better, my boy. Dutch! Dutch! Dutch! Look at her father and her mother! No, my boy, you could not make an alliance with a girl like that. She might do for a kitchen-maid." "Auntie, she's a very charming girl." "Silly boy! Go and travel, and see the daughters of France." "And she'll be rich some day." "If she were heiress to millions she could not marry you. As some writer says, eagles do not mate with plump Dutch ducklings. No, Henri, my boy, you must wait." Harry frowned, but Aunt Margaret paid no heed. "That is a boyish piece of nonsense, unworthy the Comte des Vignes, my dear boy. But tell me--you have been with your father--what does he say now?" "The old story. I'm to choose what I will do. I must go to work."