“Well! well! we were good friends from the beginning; and now I understand we are to be regular gossips:—­at least I hope so.  That scamp hasn’t bad taste, I must confess.  He would have to make a long search before he found a handsomer or more amiable woman than Lenora.  Look you, Monsieur De Vlierbeck, we must have a wedding frolic that people will talk of twenty years hence!”

By this time they had got into the saloon and taken their seats; but De Vlierbeck, nervous as he was, had considerable doubt as to the tone of Denecker’s remarks, and whether he was jesting or serious.

“It seems,” continued Denecker, assuming a graver tone, “that Gustave is madly impatient for this union, and begs me to hasten it.  I have taken compassion on the young fellow and left all the business of our house topsy-turvy to-day to arrange matters with you.  He tells me you have given your consent.  That was kind of you, sir.  I thought a great deal of this affair during my journey, for I had observed that Cupid’s arrows had gone clean through and through the boy; yet I had fears about your consent.  Inequality of blood, old-fashioned ideas, might perhaps interfere.”

“And so Gustave told you that I consented to his marriage with Lenora?” said the old gentleman, paying no attention to Monsieur Denecker’s remarks.

“Did he deceive me, sir?” said Denecker, with surprise.

“No; but did he communicate something else to you, which ought to strike you as of equal importance?”

Denecker threw back his head with a laugh, as he replied,—­

“What nonsense you made him believe!  But, between us two, that passes for nothing.  He tells me that Grinselhof don’t belong to you and that you are poor!  I hope, Monsieur De Vlierbeck, you have too good an opinion of my sense to imagine I have the least faith in such a story?”

A shudder passed over the poor gentleman’s frame.  Denecker’s good-humored familiarity had made him believe that he knew and credited all, and nevertheless responded to his nephew’s hopes; but the last words he heard taught him that he must again go over the sad recital of his misfortunes.

“Monsieur Denecker,” said he, “do not entertain the least doubt, I beg you, in regard to what I am about to say.  I am willing instantly to consent that my daughter shall become your nephew’s wife; but I solemnly declare that I am poor,—­frightfully poor!”

“Come, come!” cried the merchant; “we knew long, long ago that you were mightily fond of your money; but when you marry your only child you must open your heart and your purse, my dear sir, and portion her according to your means.  They say—­pardon me for repeating it—­that you are a miser; but what a shame it would be to let your only daughter leave your house unprovided for!”

Poor De Vlierbeck writhed on his chair as Denecker poured forth his incredulous jokes.  “For God’s sake, sir,” cried he, “spare me these bitter remarks.  I declare, on the word of a gentleman, that I possess nothing in the world!”