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with the outside air and the thought that her sister might be agreeable. At least if Laura was busy thinking of her own beauty, she would be too self-absorbed to pick at Sarah’s shortcomings.
    Stepping into the carriage, Laura exclaimed, “I wonder what this young Marquis looks like. It would be difficult to marry an ugly face--but then, if he is charming and rich enough, I suppose I could endure a plain face and form.”
    “Marriage? Is this what you are thinking of?” Sarah queried.
    Laura looked surprised and answered in a condescending tone, as though explaining something to a child. “Of course. I am at that age when a woman needs to consider marriage. And, as Aunt Caroline has taught me, I hope to marry well.”
    “Do you not think a Marquis a bit out of our class?”
    “All noblemen wish for a pretty young wife.”
    “I think I would be cautious when dealing with such an aristocrat.”
    “That is all right for you, I daresay. With your facial scar and lack of coquetry you have little hope of marrying well, if at all.”
     
    Sarah swallowed her hurt and reminded Laura, “Sister, we have very little dowry.”
    “Hah. As Madame Duval says, ‘ A handsome woman needs proportionately less dowry than others.’”
    “Still, this Lord may take little notice of us.”
    “If that is the case, then I shall just marry Andrew Darcy.”
    “Andrew?” Sarah said with more emphasis than she cared to show.
    “Yes, Andrew. . . Oh, I know he is not the most gallant man, with his stuffy scientific endeavors; but, with the Darcy fortune Pemberley would be splendid.”
    “Has he said anything to you?”
    “Not in words. But I am sure if I set my sights on him, I can fix his intentions.”
    Sarah wished to divert the conversation from any displeasure she was feeling and asked, “Do you think Maria will be at Madame Duval’s?”
    “She hopes to be. If her brothers finish their business, they will bring her by.”
    The carriage arrived in front of Madame Duval’s residence. Madame Duval came out to greet them.
    “Have you had any visitors yet?” Laura eagerly asked.
    “If you mean the Marquis, no,” replied the elderly chaperone as she escorted them into her parlor. The threesome sat down as Madame Duval said, “My brother, the general, is always complaining of my matchmaking; but, it provides so much diversion to introduce women to an appropriate beau.”
    “Now then girls, have you sent out any invitation cards?”
    Laura replied, “We have not received any cards. I suppose we are not yet known.”
     
    “You must forget your provincial English custom of waiting for cards and invitations. In France, it is the new-comer who is supposed to send his cards around to the people they are desirous of visiting and then wait for a response.”
    Sarah asked, “Isn’t that presumptuous?”
    “Not at all. In France, we assume the newcomer wishes to be alone unless he indicates otherwise. A much better social introduction scheme than what you English or the Americans have.”
    “You will also be amazed at another custom of France in that we matchmakers often place advertisements in the paper stating that a certain person is in quest of a wife or husband.”
    Astonishment filled the faces of Madame Duvall’s two guests.
    “Shall I tell you of my latest success?”
    The sisters nodded.
    “I recently helped a charming girl with a good fortune of four hundred thousand francs. She was of the mercantile class.
    Four and twenty proposals were made to this young lady. In every case she was permitted to decide for herself. When matters went to far as to render an interview desirable, it was arranged for the parties to meet at the house of a mutual friend, where they might see each other, or dance together.
     
    Over the twelvemonth, the suitors of my young protegeé formed a curious list. Nobles, wealthy roturiers , soldiers and savans . One was too tall, another too short; this one too ugly, and that too handsome. One was