“I’m very honored,” she told him, “and very touched. But you need a wife who can devote herself to you, and your estate, and your son. And with Joséphine to look after, I can’t do that. I wouldn’t be any use to you.” She had smiled. “If it weren’t for all that, I think I should say yes. But I know it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I did not make any conditions in making my offer.”

“I know. But that doesn’t change the circumstances.” She had put her hand affectionately on his arm. “I should like it very much if we could be friends.”

“Of course.”

“And I think you are right. May I say it? You should marry. God knows, there must be any number of charming women in Paris who would leap at the chance.”

“But it was you I was asking,” he pointed out.

“There are many better choices all the same.”

“Well then,” he said crossly, “if you are so certain about it, you’d better find me a wife.”

“You want me to find you a wife?”

“Why not? You tell me you are my friend, and that although you can’t marry me yourself, there are all these other women I should marry instead. Very well. Show them to me. I trust your judgment. You choose the wife, and I will marry her.”

She had laughed. But as she was growing fond of him, she did select one or two women, introduced them, and sent him out with them.

The first one he told her frankly was beautiful, “but there was no spark between us.”

The second he liked better. But she was “just a little too stupid.”

“Ah,” she cried, “you are difficile!”

“Perhaps, but I must ask you to try again.”

The third took her a month to find. The woman was aristocratic, amusing, elegant—perfect in every way. He took her to the opera and to dinner. To her surprise, he turned up without warning at her apartment the following evening.

“Well,” she asked, “how was this one?”

“No good.” He shook his head.

“What’s the matter with her?”

“She’s too intelligent.”

Marie burst out laughing. “You’re not difficile; you’re impossible.”

He made a face. “What can I do?”

She took his coat by the lapels, pretending to shake him. And whether she was taken by surprise when he held her and kissed her, or whether she was not, they had become lovers that evening.

“I shall be your mistress, but only until you find a wife,” she declared.