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"We must beware, my friend," said Louise one day to Gervase, "lest the English visitors be given too poor a chance with my nieces. Already I think that Bess's eyes are wandering."

"Eh well, so long as it's but her eyes. Her hand is promised, and she can't deny it. Though, for that, I care not which of my troop he takes so long as he takes one of 'em."

"If I'm not mistaken, he would find it difficult to change to one of her sisters. They are all mad in the same way."

"I'm not sure that it's madness. Your countrymen make a better show than mine. All I'm surprised at is that my wenches have enough grace to see the difference."

"But from your view it is madness. None of these réfugiés has any money, whereas Oxenbrigge is rich, and that poor clumsy Deeck Austen's father has much land and much money."

"But if they marry a Frenchman they marry blood-noble blood."

"La petite noblesse. . . . I am not sure it is worth marrying, at least out of its own country. Even so, my friend, with Austen and Oxenbrigge having their rights, you still have three daughters left——"