“I think, my dear, that I shall enjoy making a better acquaintance of the Comte. He is widely regarded as a rational, philosophical man, not averse to trying new methods. He has, I am sure, some excellent experience of fruit culture, which I shall be glad to learn of him. He struck me altogether as being very agreeable. Do you not agree?”

“Yes,” replied Elizabeth, “it is impossible to find him otherwise: his manners are so pleasing and naturally open. He is much like Mr. Bingley in his ease of address, but with more savoir faire and an obvious—although not disagreeable—pride. I am delighted that you have improved your acquaintance of a gentleman whom you already esteem through reputation, and who is so very like yourself in his thinking. I would add, Husband, that this is not the only pleasing aspect of this association. The Comte was, as could easily be apprehended by the whole of the room, quite taken with Georgiana; the very artifice and officious attention of the French ladies appeared to disgust him. I am of the opinion that he values Georgiana for the artless simplicity of her character, and probably, to some degree, because she is so unlike them. I could discern nothing of her feelings at the ball, and she was silent on the subject on the way home. I confess that, impossibly high as my requirements are for anything that comes in the form of a lover to your sister, the Comte equals them in all respects. I can find no fault with him; he seems worthy of her, and she is certainly worthy of him.” Mr. Darcy, who had been thinking much along the same lines, agreed wholeheartedly, and they retired, one dreaming of handsome plantations and the other of the pleasures of the evening.