“Don’t you understand me?” said Suzanne.  “I know,” she continued, making a pretty little face, “how ridiculous it is in a poor girl to come and nag at a man for what he thinks a mere nothing.  But if you really knew me, monsieur, if you knew all that I am capable of for a man who would attach himself to me as much as I’m attached to you, you would never repent having married me.  Of course it isn’t here, in Alencon, that I should be of service to you; but if we went to Paris, you would see where I could lead a man with your mind and your capacities; and just at this time too, when they are remaking the government from top to toe.  So—­between ourselves, be it said—­is what has happened a misfortune?  Isn’t it rather a piece of luck, which will pay you well?  Who and what are you working for now?”

“For myself, of course!” cried du Bousquier, brutally.

“Monster! you’ll never be a father!” said Suzanne, giving a tone of prophetic malediction to the words.

“Come, don’t talk nonsense, Suzanne,” replied du Bousquier; “I really think I am still dreaming.”

“How much more reality do you want?” cried Suzanne, standing up.

Du Bousquier rubbed his cotton night-cap to the top of his head with a rotatory motion, which plainly indicated the tremendous fermentation of his ideas.

“He actually believes it!” thought Suzanne, “and he’s flattered.  Heaven! how easy it is to gull men!”

“Suzanne, what the devil must I do?  It is so extraordinary—­I, who thought—­ The fact is that—­ No, no, it can’t be—­”

“What? you can’t marry me?”

“Oh! as for that, no; I have engagements.”

“With Mademoiselle Armande or Mademoiselle Cormon, who have both refused you?  Listen to me, Monsieur du Bousquier, my honor doesn’t need gendarmes to drag you to the mayor’s office.  I sha’n’t lack for husbands, thank goodness! and I don’t want a man who can’t appreciate what I’m worth.  But some day you’ll repent of the way you are behaving; for I tell you now that nothing on earth, neither gold nor silver, will induce me to return the good thing that belongs to you, if you refuse to accept it to-day.”

“But, Suzanne, are you sure?”

“Oh, monsieur!” cried the grisette, wrapping her virtue round her, “what do you take me for?  I don’t remind you of the promises you made me, which have ruined a poor young girl whose only blame was to have as much ambition as love.”

Du Bousquier was torn with conflicting sentiments, joy, distrust, calculation.  He had long determined to marry Mademoiselle Cormon; for the Charter, on which he had just been ruminating, offered to his ambition, through the half of her property, the political career of a deputy.  Besides, his marriage with the old maid would put him socially so high in the town that he would have great influence.  Consequently, the storm upraised by that malicious Suzanne drove him into the wildest embarrassment.  Without this secret scheme, he would have married Suzanne without hesitation.  In which case, he could openly assume the leadership of the liberal party in Alencon.  After such a marriage he would, of course, renounce the best society and take up with the bourgeois class of tradesmen, rich manufacturers and graziers, who would certainly carry him in triumph as their candidate.  Du Bousquier already foresaw the Left side.