Camusot was not exactly master in his own house; but this time his remonstrance was so well founded in law and in fact, that his wife and daughter were forced to acknowledge the truth.  They both humbled themselves and threw the blame on the servants.  The servants, first bidden, and then chidden, only obtained pardon by a full confession, which made it clear to the President’s mind that Pons had done rightly to stop away.  The President displayed himself before the servants in all his masculine and magisterial dignity, after the manner of men who are ruled by their wives.  He informed his household that they should be dismissed forthwith, and forfeit any advantages which their long term of service in his house might have brought them, unless from that time forward his cousin and all those who did him the honor of coming to his house were treated as he himself was.  At which speech Madeleine was moved to smile.

“You have only one chance of salvation as it is,” continued the President.  “Go to my cousin, make your excuses to him, and tell him that you will lose your situations unless he forgives you, for I shall turn you all away if he does not.”

Next morning the President went out fairly early to pay a call on his cousin before going down to the court.  The apparition of M. le President de Marville, announced by Mme. Cibot, was an event in the house.  Pons, thus honored for the first time in his life saw reparation ahead.

“At last, my dear cousin,” said the President after the ordinary greetings; “at last I have discovered the cause of your retreat.  Your behavior increases, if that were possible, my esteem for you.  I have but one word to say in that connection.  My servants have all been dismissed.  My wife and daughter are in despair; they want to see you to have an explanation.  In all this, my cousin, there is one innocent person, and he is an old judge; you will not punish me, will you, for the escapade of a thoughtless child who wished to dine with the Popinots? especially when I come to beg for peace, admitting that all the wrong has been on our side? . . .  An old friendship of thirty-six years, even suppose that there had been a misunderstanding, has still some claims.  Come, sign a treaty of peace by dining with us to-night—­”

Pons involved himself in a diffuse reply, and ended by informing his cousin that he was to sign a marriage contract that evening; how that one of the orchestra was not only going to be married, but also about to fling his flute to the winds to become a banker.

“Very well.  To-morrow.”

“Mme. la Comtesse Popinot has done me the honor of asking me, cousin.  She was so kind as to write—­”

“The day after to-morrow then.”

“M.  Brunner, a German, my first flute’s future partner, returns the compliment paid him to-day by the young couple—­”

“You are such pleasant company that it is not surprising that people dispute for the honor of seeing you.  Very well, next Sunday?  Within a week, as we say at the courts?”