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Thus he babbled on, for the sudden languor of the Prince had alarmed him, and Louis de Soyecourt, to afford him justice, loved his father with a heartier intensity than falls to the portion of most parents. To arouse the semi-conscious man was his one thought. And now he got his reward, for the Prince de G�tinais opened his keen old eyes, a trifle dazedly, and drew a deep breath which shook his large frail body through and through.

“Let us recognize that we are de Soyecourts, you and I,” he repeated, in a new voice. “After all, I cannot drag you to Noumaria by the scruff of your neck like a truant school-boy. Yes, let us recognize the fact that we are de Soyecourts, you and I.”

“Heh, in that event,” said the Marquis, “we must both fall upon our knees forthwith. For look, my father!”

Nelchen Thorn was midway in her descent of the stairs. She wore her simple best. All white it was, and yet the plump shoulders it displayed were not put to shame. Rather must April clouds and the snows of December retire abashed, as lamentably inefficient analogues, the Marquis meditated; and as she paused starry-eyed and a thought afraid, it seemed to him improbable that even the Prince de G�tinais could find it in his heart greatly to blame his son.

“I begin to suspect,” said the Prince, “that I am Jacob of old, and that you are a very young cherub venturing out of Paradise through motives of curiosity. Eh, my dear, let us see what entertainment we can afford you during your visit to earth.” He took her hand and led her to the table.

IV

Vanringham served. Never was any one more blithe than the lean Prince de G�tinais. The latest gossip of Versailles was delivered, with discreet emendations; he laughed gayly; and he ate with an appetite. There was a blight among the cattle hereabouts? How deplorable! witchcraft, beyond doubt. And Louis passed as a piano-tuner?–because there were no pianos in Manneville. Excellent! he had always given Louis credit for a surpassing cleverness; now it was demonstrated. In fine, the Prince de G�tinais became so jovial that Nelchen was quite at ease, and Louis de Soyecourt became vaguely alarmed. He knew his father, and for the Prince to yield thus facilely was incredible. Still, his father had seen Nelchen, had talked with Nelchen….

Now the Prince rose. “Fresh glasses, Vanringham,” he ordered; and then: “I give you a toast. Through desire of love and happiness, you young people have stolen a march on me. Eh, I am not Sgarnarelle of the comedy! therefore, I drink cheerfully to love and happiness, I consider Louis is not in the right, but I know that he is wise, my daughter, as concerns his soul’s health, in clinging to you rather than to a tinsel crown. Of Fate I have demanded–like Sgarnarelle of the comedy,–prosaic equity and common-sense; of Fate he has in turn demanded happiness; and Fate will at her convenience decide between us. Meantime I drink to love and happiness, since I, too, remember. I know better than to argue with Louis, you observe, my Nelchen; we de Soyecourts are not lightly severed from any notion we may have taken up. In consequence I drink to your love and happiness!”

They drank. “To your love, my son,” said the Prince de G�tinais,–“to the true love of a de Soyecourt.” And afterward he laughingly drank: “To your happiness, my daughter,–to your eternal happiness.”

Nelchen sipped. The two men stood with drained glasses. Now on a sudden the Prince de G�tinais groaned and clutched his breast.

“I was always a glutton,” he said, hoarsely. “I should have been more moderate–I am faint–“

“Salts are the best thing in the world,” said Nelchen, with fine readiness. She was half-way up the stairs. “A moment, monseigneur,–a moment, and I fetch salts.” Nelchen Thorn had disappeared into her room.