“But, monsieur, I entreat you to believe that I knew nothing of this idea of my godmother.”

“I know that,” said la Peyrade, “and the matter itself would be of small importance if Mademoiselle Brigitte had not taken this attitude of your godmother, whom she has always found supple to her will, as a personal insult to herself.  Very painful explanations, approaching at last to violence, have taken place.  Thuillier, placed between the hammer and the anvil, has been unable to stop the affair; on the contrary, he has, without intending it, made matters worse, till they have now arrived at such a point that Mademoiselle Brigitte is packing her trunks to leave the house.”

“Monsieur! what are you telling me?” cried Celeste, horrified.

“The truth; and the servants will confirm it to you—­for I feel that my revelations are scarcely believable.”

“But it is impossible! impossible!” said the poor child, whose agitation increased with every word of the adroit Provencal.  “I cannot be the cause of such dreadful harm.”

“That is, you did not intend to be, for the harm is done; and I pray Heaven it may not be irremediable.”

“But what am I to do, good God!” cried Celeste, wringing her hands.

“I should answer, without hesitation, sacrifice yourself, mademoiselle, if it were not that I should then be forced to play the painful part of victimizer.”

“Monsieur,” said Celeste, “you interpret ill the resistance that I have made, though, in fact, I have scarcely expressed it.  I have certainly had a preference, but I have never considered myself in the light of a victim; and whatever it is necessary to do to restore peace in this house to which I have brought trouble, I shall do it without repugnance, and even willingly.”

“That would be for me,” said la Peyrade, humbly, “more than I could dare ask for myself; but, for the result which we both seek, I must tell you frankly that something more is needed.  Madame Thuillier has not changed her nature to instantly change back again on the mere assurance by others of your compliance.  It is necessary that she should hear from your own lips that you accede to my suit, and that you do so with eagerness,—­assumed, indeed, but sufficiently well assumed to induce her to believe in it.”

“So be it,” said Celeste.  “I shall know how to seem smiling and happy.  My godmother, monsieur, has been a mother to me; and for such a mother, what is there that I would not endure?”

The position was such, and Celeste betrayed so artlessly the depth and, at the same time, the absolute determination of her sacrifice, that with any heart at all la Peyrade would have loathed the part he was playing; but Celeste, to him, was a means of ascent, and provided the ladder can hold you and hoist you, who would ever ask if it cared to or not?  It was therefore decided that Celeste should go to her godmother and convince her of the mistake she had made in supposing an objection to la Peyrade which Celeste had never intended to make.  Madame Thuillier’s opposition overcome, all was once more easy.  La Peyrade took upon himself the duty of making peace between the two sisters-in-law, and we can well imagine that he was not at a loss for fine phrases with which to assure the artless girl of the devotion and love which would take from her all regret for the moral compulsion she had now undergone.