of this would-be husband.”
“Your father will bring him to you: he said he would.”
“Well, he is a man of courage, if he returns three times.”
At this moment the parlor-door opened suddenly.
“What are you plotting here again?” cried the irritated voice of the master. “And you, Mme. Favoral, why don’t you go to bed?”
The poor slave obeyed, without saying a word. And, whilst making her way to her room:
“There is trouble ahead,” thought Mlle. Gilberte. “But bash! If I do have to suffer some, it won’t be great harm, after all. Surely Marius does not complain, though he gives up for me his dearest hopes, becomes the salaried employe of M. Marcolet, and thinks of nothing but making money—he so proud and so disinterested!”
Mlle. Gilberte’s anticipations were but too soon realized. When M. Favoral made his appearance the next morning, he had the sombre brow and contracted lips of a man who has spent the night ruminating a plan from which he does not mean to swerve.
Instead of going to his office, as usual, without saying a word to any one, he called his wife and children to the parlor; and, after having carefully bolted all the doors, he turned to Maxence.
“I want you,” he commenced, “to give me a list of your creditors. See that you forget none; and let it be ready as soon as possible.”
But Maxence was no longer the same man. After the terrible and well-deserved reproaches of his sister, a salutary revolution had taken place in him. During the preceding night, he had reflected over his conduct for the past four years; and he had been dismayed and terrified. His impression was like that of the drunkard, who, having become sober, remembers the ridiculous or degrading acts which he has committed under the influence of alcohol, and, confused and humiliated, swears never more to drink.
Thus Maxence had sworn to himself to change his mode of life, promising that it would be no drunkard’s oath, either. And his attitude and his looks showed the pride of great resolutions.
Instead of lowering his eyes before the irritated glance of M. Favoral, and stammering excuses and vague promises:
“It is useless, father,” he replied, “to give you the list you ask for. I am old enough to bear the responsibility of my acts. I shall repair my follies: what I owe, I shall pay. This very day I shall see my creditors, and make arrangements with them.”
“Very well, Maxence,” exclaimed Mme. Favoral, delighted.
But there was no pacifying the cashier of the Mutual Credit.
“Those are fine-sounding words,” he said with a sneer; “but I doubt if the tailors and the shirt-makers will take them in payment. That’s why I want that list.”
“Still—”
“It’s I who shall pay. I do not mean to have another such scene as that of yesterday in my office. It must not be said that my son is a sharper and a cheat at the very moment when I find for my daughter a most unhoped-for match.”
And, turning to Mlle. Gilberte:
“For I suppose you have got over your foolish ideas,” he uttered.
The young girl shook her head.
“My ideas are the same as they were last night.”
“Ah, ah!”
“And so, father, I beg of you, do not insist. Why wrangle and quarrel? You must know me well enough to know, that, whatever may happen, I shall never yield.”
Indeed, M. Favoral was well aware of his daughter’s firmness; for he had already been compelled on several occasions, as he expressed it himself, “to strike his flag” before her. But he could not believe that she would resist when he took certain means of enforcing his will.
“I have pledged my word,” he said.
“But I have not pledged mine, father.”
He was becoming excited: his cheeks were flushed; and his little eyes sparkled.
“And suppose I were to tell you,” he resumed, doing at least to his daughter the honor of controlling his anger: “suppose I were to tell you that I would derive from this marriage immense, positive, and immediate advantages?”
“Oh!” she interrupted with a look of disgust, “oh, for mercy’s sake!”
“Suppose I were to tell you that I have a powerful interest in it; that it is indispensable to the success of vast combinations?”
Mlle. Gilberte looked straight at him.
“I would answer you,” she exclaimed, “that it does not suit me to be made use of as an earnest to your combinations. Ah! it’s an operation, is it? an enterprise, a big speculation? and you throw in your daughter in the bargain as a bonus. Well, no! You can tell your partner that the thing has fallen through.”
M. Favoral’s anger was growing with each word.
“I’ll see if I can’t make you yield,” he said.
“You may crush me, perhaps. Make me yield, never!”
“Well, we shall see. You will see—Maxence and you—whether there are no means by which a father can compel his rebellious children to submit to his authority.”
And, feeling that he was no longer master of himself, he left, swearing loud enough to shake the plaster from the stair-walls.
Maxence shook with indignation.
“Never,” he uttered, “never until now, had I understood the infamy of my conduct. With a father such as ours, Gilberte, I should be your protector. And now I am debarred even of the right to interfere. But never mind, I have the will; and all will soon be repaired.”
Left alone, a few moments after, Mlle. Gilberte was congratulating herself upon her firmness.
“I am sure,” she thought, “Marius would approve, if he knew.”
She had not long to wait for her reward. The bell rang: it was her old professor, the Signor Gismondo Pulei, who came to give her his daily lesson.
The liveliest joy beamed upon his face, more shriveled than an apple at Easter; and the most magnificent anticipations sparkled in his eyes.
“I knew it, signora!” he exclaimed from the threshold: “I knew that angels bring good luck. As every thing succeeds to you, so must every thing succeed to those who come near you.”
She could not help smiling at the appropriateness of the compliment.
“Something fortunate has happened to you, dear master?” she asked.
“That is to say, I am on the high-road to fortune and glory,” he replied. “My fame is extending; pupils dispute the privilege of my lesson.”
Mlle.
