A painter might have selected him for a consummate type of noble charm and manly perfection. II One day Jean received two letters in a single envelope, bearing the postmark of his village. One letter was from his dear old mother, the other from Jeanne. Letter from Françoise Peyral to her son. My dear son,—Since my last letter many things have happened which will surprise you very much. But do not worry about them yet. You must do as we do, pray to the good God, and hope for the best. I will begin by telling you that a new attorney has come into these parts, a young man called M. Prosper Suirot, who is not very much liked with us, being hard on poor people, and underhand by nature. But he is a man with a fine position, that cannot be denied. Well, this M. Suirot has asked your Uncle Méry for Jeanne’s hand in marriage, and has been accepted as his son-in-law. Now Méry came here one evening and made a scene; he had applied to your colonels for information about you without telling us, and it appears that he received bad accounts of you. They said that you were living with a negro woman out there; that you kept her, in spite of the remonstrances of your commanding officers, and that it was this that prevented you from becoming quartermaster, that there are bad reports of you out there; many things, my dear son, that I could never have believed, but it was written on a piece of stamped paper, with your regimental crest on it. Then Jeanne came running to us in tears, vowing that she would never marry Suirot, or be wife to any one but you, my dear Jean, and that she would rather go into a convent. I enclose a letter which she has written to you, in which she lets you know what you ought to do. She is of age, and very level-headed. Do exactly as she tells you, and write by return of post to your uncle, as she bids you. You will come back to us in ten months’ time, my dear son. If you behave well till you obtain your discharge, and pray constantly to the good God, without doubt everything will come right. But we are much worried, as you may imagine. We are afraid, too, that Méry may forbid Jeanne to come and see us again, and that will be a great pity. Peyral joins me, my dear son, in embracing you, and in begging you to write to us as soon as possible. Your old mother, who will love you as long as she lives. FRANÇOISE PEYRAL. Jeanne Méry to her cousin Jean.