“Ah!” exclaimed Sylvie.

“If it had not been for the embarrassments this vice has brought upon him, he might have been a marshal of France,” continued Vinet.  “He is capable of running through your property; but he is very astute; you cannot be sure of not having children, and you told me yourself the risks you feared.  No, if you want to marry, wait till I am in the Chamber and then take that old Desfondrilles, who shall be made chief justice.  If you want revenge on the colonel make your brother marry Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf,—­I can get her consent; she has two thousand francs a year, and you will be connected with the de Chargeboeufs as I am.  Recollect what I tell you, the Chargeboeufs will be glad to claim us for cousins some day.”

“Gouraud loves Pierrette,” was Sylvie’s only answer.

“He is quite capable of it,” said Vinet, “and capable of marrying her after your death.”

“A fine calculation!” she said.

“I tell you that man has the shrewdness of the devil.  Marry your brother and announce that you mean to remain unmarried and will leave your property to your nephews and nieces.  That will strike a blow at Gouraud and Pierrette both! and you’ll see the faces they’ll make.”

“Ah! that’s true,” cried the old maid, “I can serve them both right.  She shall go to a shop, and get nothing from me.  She hasn’t a sou; let her do as we did,—­work.”

Vinet departed, having put his plan into Sylvie’s head, her dogged obstinacy being well-known to him.  The old maid, he was certain, would think the scheme her own, and carry it out.

The lawyer found the colonel in the square, smoking a cigar while he waited for him.

“Halt!” said Gouraud; “you have pulled me down, but stones enough came with me to bury you—­”

“Colonel!—­”

“Colonel or not, I shall give you your deserts.  In the first place, you shall not be deputy—­”

“Colonel!—­”

“I control ten votes and the election depends on—­”

“Colonel, listen to me.  Is there no one to marry but that old Sylvie?  I have just been defending you to her; you are accused and convicted of writing to Pierrette; she saw you leave your house at midnight and come to the girl’s window—­”

“Stuff and nonsense!”

“She means to marry her brother to Bathilde and leave her fortune to their children.”

“Rogron won’t have any.”

“Yes he will,” replied Vinet.  “But I promise to find you some young and agreeable woman with a hundred and fifty thousand francs?  Don’t be a fool; how can you and I afford to quarrel?  Things have gone against you in spite of all my care; but you don’t understand me.”

“Then we must understand each other,” said the colonel.  “Get me a wife with a hundred and fifty thousand francs before the elections; if not —­look out for yourself!  I don’t like unpleasant bed-fellows, and you’ve pulled the blankets all over to your side.  Good-evening.”