“It may suit me,” replied la Peyrade, “to marry the daughter of a fool and a fury if I choose her, or I might become the husband of a clever coquette, if passion seized me, but the Queen of Sheba herself, if imposed upon me, neither you, monsieur, nor the ablest and most powerful man living could force me to accept.”

“Precisely; therefore it is to your own good sense and intelligence that I now address myself; but we have to come face to face with people in order to speak to them, you know.  Now, then, let us look into your present situation, and don’t get angry if, like a surgeon who wants to cure his patient, I lay my hand mercilessly on wounds which have long tormented and harassed you.  The first point to state is that the Celeste Colleville affair is at an end for you.”

“Why so?” demanded la Peyrade.

“Because I have just seen Thuillier and terrified him with the history of the misfortunes he has incurred, and those he will incur if he persists in the idea of giving you his goddaughter in marriage.  He knows now that it was I who paralyzed Madame du Bruel’s kind offices in the matter of the cross; that I had his pamphlet seized; that I sent that Hungarian woman into his house to handle you all, as she did; and that my hand is opening fire in the ministerial journals, which will only increase from bad to worse,—­not to speak of other machinations which will be directed against his candidacy.  Therefore you see, my good friend, that not only have you no longer the credit in Thuillier’s eyes of being his great helper to that election, but that you actually block the way to his ambition.  That is enough to prove to you that the side by which you have imposed yourself on that family—­who have never sincerely liked or desired you—­is now completely battered down and dismantled.”

“But to have done all that which you claim with such pretension, who are you?” demanded la Peyrade.

“I shall not say that you are very inquisitive, for I intend to answer your question later; but for the present let us continue, if you please, the autopsy of your existence, dead to-day, but which I propose to resuscitate gloriously.  You are twenty-eight years old, and you have begun a career in which I shall not allow you to make another step.  A few days hence the Council of the order of barristers will assemble and will censure, more or less severely, your conduct in the matter of the property you placed with such candor in Thuillier’s hands.  Do not deceive yourself; censure from that quarter (and I mention only your least danger) is as fatal to a barrister as being actually disbarred.”

“And it is to your kind offices, no doubt,” said la Peyrade, “that I shall owe that precious result?”

“Yes, I may boast of it,” replied du Portail, “for, in order to tow you into port it has been necessary to strip you of your rigging; unless that were done, you would always have tried to navigate under your own sails the bourgeois shoals that you are now among.”