“Yes,” said la Peyrade, “and if I lose the case it will be I who have sent him to prison,—­just as yesterday it was I who brought about the seizure.”

“As for that, it seems to me that if you had written nothing the police would have found nothing to bite.”

“My dear Brigitte,” said Thuillier, seeing la Peyrade shrug his shoulders, “your argument is vicious in the sense that the writing was not incriminating on any side.  It is not la Peyrade’s fault if persons of high station have organized a persecution against me.  You remember that little substitute, Monsieur Olivier Vinet, whom Cardot brought to one of our receptions.  It seems that he and his father are furious that we didn’t want him for Celeste, and they’ve sworn my destruction.”

“Well, why did we refuse him,” said Brigitte, “if it wasn’t for the fine eyes of monsieur here?  For, after all, a substitute in Paris is a very suitable match.”

“No doubt,” said la Peyrade, nonchalantly.  “Only, he did not happen to bring you a million.”

“Ah!” cried Brigitte, firing up.  “If you are going to talk any more about that house you helped us to buy, I shall tell you plainly that if you had had the money to trick the notary you never would have come after us.  You needn’t think I have been altogether your dupe.  You spoke just now of a bargain, but you proposed that bargain yourself.  ’Give me Celeste and I’ll get you that house,’—­that’s what you said to us in so many words.  Besides which, we had to pay large sums on which we never counted.”

“Come, come, Brigitte,” said Thuillier, “you are making a great deal out of nothing.”

“Nothing! nothing!” exclaimed Brigitte.  “Did we, or did we not, have to pay much more than we expected?”

“My dear Thuillier,” said la Peyrade, “I think, with you, that the matter is now settled, and it can only be embittered by discussing it further.  My course was decided on before I came here; all that I have now heard can only confirm it.  I shall not be the husband of Celeste, but you and I can remain good friends.”

He rose to leave the room.

“One moment, monsieur,” said Brigitte, barring his way; “there is one matter which I do not consider settled; and now that we are no longer to have interests in common, I should not be sorry if you would be so good as to tell me what has become of a sum of ten thousand francs which Thuillier gave you to bribe those rascally government offices in order to get the cross we have never got.”

“Brigitte!” cried Thuillier, in anguish, “you have a devil of a tongue!  You ought to be silent about that; I told it to you in a moment of ill-temper, and you promised me faithfully never to open your lips about it to any one, no matter who.”

“So I did; but,” replied the implacable Brigitte, “we are parting.  When people part they settle up; they pay their debts.  Ten thousand francs!  For my part, I thought the cross itself dear at that; but for a cross that has melted away, monsieur himself will allow the price is too high.”