“I have the honor to introduce one of my husband’s cousins,” said Mme. Camusot, bringing forward the Duchess; “he is one of the most distinguished horticulturists in Paris; and as he cannot spend more than one day with us, on his way back from Brittany, and has heard of your flowers and plants, I have taken the liberty of coming early.”

“Oh, the gentleman is a horticulturist, is he?” said the old Blondet.

The Duchess bowed.

“This is my coffee-plant,” said Blondet, “and here is a tea-plant.”

“What can have taken M. le President away from home?” put in Mme. Camusot.  “I will wager that his absence concerns M. Camusot.”

“Exactly.—­This, monsieur, is the queerest of all cactuses,” he continued, producing a flower-pot which appeared to contain a piece of mildewed rattan; “it comes from Australia.  You are very young, sir, to be a horticulturist.”

“Dear M. Blondet, never mind your flowers,” said Mme. Camusot. “You are concerned, you and your hopes, and your son’s marriage with Mlle. Blandureau.  You are duped by the President.”

“Bah!” said old Blondet, with an incredulous air.

“Yes,” retorted she.  “If you cultivated people a little more and your flowers a little less, you would know that the dowry and the hopes you have sown, and watered, and tilled, and weeded are on the point of being gathered now by cunning hands.”

“Madame!——­”

“Oh, nobody in the town will have the courage to fly in the President’s face and warn you.  I, however, do not belong to the town, and, thanks to this obliging young man, I shall soon be going back to Paris; so I can inform you that Chesnel’s successor has made formal proposals for Mlle. Claire Blandureau’s hand on behalf of young du Ronceret, who is to have fifty thousand crowns from his parents.  As for Fabien, he has made up his mind to receive a call to the bar, so as to gain an appointment as judge.”

Old Blondet dropped the flower-pot which he had brought out for the Duchess to see.

“Oh, my cactus!  Oh, my son! and Mlle. Blandureau! . . .  Look here! the cactus flower is broken to pieces.”

“No,” Mme. Camusot answered, laughing; “everything can be put right.  If you have a mind to see your son a judge in another month, we will tell you how you must set to work——­”

“Step this way, sir, and you will see my pelargoniums, an enchanting sight while they are in flower——­” Then he added to Mme. Camusot, “Why did you speak of these matters while your cousin was present.”

“All depends upon him,” riposted Mme. Camusot.  “Your son’s appointment is lost for ever if you let fall a word about this young man.”

“Bah!”

“The young man is a flower——­”

“Ah!”

“He is the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, sent here by His Majesty to save young d’Esgrignon, whom they arrested yesterday on a charge of forgery brought against him by du Croisier.  Mme. la Duchesse has authority from the Keeper of the Seals; he will ratify any promises that she makes to us——­”