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"Is
that the way you American girls show it, when you are very happy? Come,
come, _ma belle_! tell little Virginie something. Thou hast seen this
hero, this wandering Ulysses. He has come back at last; the tapestry
will not be quite as long as Penelope's? Speak to me of him. Has he
beautiful black eyes, and hair that curls like a grape-vine? Tell me,
_ma belle_!"
"I only saw him a little while," said Mary, "and I felt a great deal
more than I saw. He could not have been any clearer to me than he
always has been in my mind."
"But I think," said Madame de Frontignac, seating Mary, as was her
wont, and sitting down at her feet, "I think you are a little _triste_
about this. Very likely you pity the good priest. It is sad for him;
but a good priest has the Church for his bride, you know."
"You do not think," said Mary, speaking seriously, "that I shall break
my promise given before God to this good man?"
"_Mon Dieu, mon enfant!_ you do not mean to marry the priest, after
all? _Quelle idee!_"
"But I _promised_ him," said Mary.


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