half understand itself; and without too curiously examining her burden, she tried to lay it, just as it was, at his feet. "Our Father who art in heaven," she pleaded, "do what is right and best for me, and for—for us all. And thy will be done."
Meanwhile the voices in the room beneath her scarcely paused for an instant. They were calm, well-bred voices, which never interrupted each other, never grew too loud or hasty. But they were the voices of speakers very much in earnest, and with very definite views and opinions. It was with Madame de Talmont that the decision really rested; but she felt it right and fitting to consult the two others, though perhaps she only did it, as persons of a quiet but determined character are apt to do, with her own mind fully made up. "You are aware, my dear aunt," she said, "that the unhappy marriage of our poor Cousin Victoire has created in my mind a strong prejudice against Russians. But this feeling, though it may have its weight with me, ought not to be decisive."
Henri moved uneasily, and seemed about to speak, but restrained himself, and Madame de Salgues inquired, "Does this young man resemble his father?"
"In his figure, yes; and somewhat in his features also; but he is far more like his mother. Victoire was charming; and I am bound to acknowledge that everything I have observed in her son since he came here creates the most favourable impression."
"He certainly seems to be a perfect gentleman," Madame de Salgues admitted. "Un parfait honnête homme," was what she said.
"He is courteous, unselfish, generous," Madame de Talmont added. "His principles appear to be excellent; and although, of course, I greatly deplore the difference of religion, and should much prefer a Catholic, still I believe him to be really pious in his own way, and very scrupulous in observing the rites of his Church. Besides, as Clémence is herself so dévote, I have little doubt she will gain him in the end."
