Yet that would not have been a difficult task. She was loved by a score of
youths, but had never spoken to any of them. They stood at corners and
sighed as she walked by; and others, with religious bent, timed her hours
for mass and took positions in church from whence they could see her
kneel. Still others patroled the narrow street that led to her home, with
hopes that she might pass that way, so that they might touch the hem of
her garment.

These things were as naught to Jeanne Marie. She had never yet seen a man
for whose intellect she did not have both a pity and a contempt.

But Claude Bouvier did not pick a husband for his daughter from among the
simple youths of the town. He wrote to a bachelor friend, Jacques Guyon by
name, and told him he could have the girl if he wanted her--that is, after
certain little preliminaries had been arranged.

Now, Jacques Guyon had been at the Bouvier residence on a visit three
months before, and had looked the lass over stealthily with peculiar
interest, and had intimated that if Monsieur Bouvier wished to get rid of
her it could be brought about. So, after some weeks had passed, Monsieur
bethought him of the offer of Jacques Guyon, and he concluded that
inasmuch as Guyon was rich and respectable it would be a good match.

So he wrote to Guyon, and Guyon replied that he would come, probably
within a fortnight--just as soon as his rheumatism got better.

Monsieur Claude Bouvier read the letter, and walking into the next room,
surprised Jeanne Marie by kissing her tenderly on her forehead--all as
herein truthfully recorded.