“Difficulties,” shouted Raynal with merry disdain; “there are none, unless you sit down and make them; we do more difficult things than this every day of our lives: we passed the bridge of Arcola in thirteen minutes; and we had not the consent of the enemy, as we have yours--have we not?” Her only reply was a look at her mother, to which the baroness replied by a nod; then turning to Raynal, “This empressement is very flattering; but I see no possibility: there is an etiquette we cannot altogether defy: there are preliminaries before a daughter of Beaurepaire can become a wife.” “There used to be all that, madam,” laughed Raynal, putting her down good-humoredly; “but it was in the days when armies came out and touched their caps to one another, and went back into winter quarters. Then the struggle was who could go slowest; now the fight is who can go fastest. Time and Bonaparte wait for nobody; and ladies and other strong places are taken by storm, not undermined a foot a month as under Noah Quartorze: let me cut this short, as time is short.” He then drew a little plan of a wedding campaign. “The carriages will be here at 9 A.M.,” said he; “they will whisk us down to the mayor’s house by a quarter to ten: Picard, the notary, meets us there with the marriage contract, to save time; the contract signed, the mayor will do the marriage at quick step out of respect for me--half an hour--quarter past ten; breakfast in the same house an hour and a quarter:--we mustn’t hurry a wedding breakfast--then ten minutes or so for the old fogies to waste in making speeches about our virtues--my watch will come out--my charger will come round--I rise from the table--embrace my dear old mother--kiss my wife’s hand--into the saddle--canter to Paris--roll to Toulon--sail to Egypt. But I shall leave a wife and a mother behind me: they will both send me a kind word now and then; and I will write letters to you all from Egypt, and when I come home, my wife and I will make acquaintance, and we will all be happy together: and if I am killed out there, don’t you go and fret your poor little hearts about it; it is a soldier’s lot sooner or later. Besides, you will find I have taken care of you; nobody shall come and turn you out of your quarters, even though Jean Raynal should be dead; I have got to meet Picard at Riviere’s on that very business--I am off.” He was gone as brusquely as he came. “Mother! sister!” cried Josephine, “help me to love this man.” “You need no help,” cried the baroness, with enthusiasm, “not love him, we should all be monsters.” Raynal came to supper looking bright and cheerful. “No more work to-day. I have nothing to do but talk; fancy that.” This evening Josephine de Beaurepaire, who had been silent and thoughtful, took a quiet opportunity, and purred in his ear, “Monsieur!” “Mademoiselle!” rang the trombone. “Am I not to go to Egypt?” “No.”