certain circumstances.

My cousin said nothing; she only held down her eyes--while her cheeks
were as red as those of cherries in May.

I checked myself.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked, tremblingly. "Are you angry with me,
Rose?"

She held out to me her hand. On that, my heart seething with audacity,
my head on fire, I cried:--

"Rose--I swear it! I will be your husband!" And as she shook her head
and looked at me sadly, I added: "Oh! I well know that my uncle is
self-willed, but I will be more self-willed still; and, since he must be
forced to say 'yes,' I will force him to say it!"

"But how?" asked Rose.

Ah! how? That was exactly the difficulty. But, no matter; I would find a
way to surmount it!

At that moment a heavy step resounded in the street. Instinctively we
moved away from each other; I returned to my double-handed sword, and
Rose, to keep herself in countenance, set to dusting, with a corner of
her apron, a little statuette in its faded red velvet case.

My uncle entered. Surprised at finding us together, he stopped short and
looked sharply at us, from one to the other.