“Say no more, Bixiou.”

“But I have only just begun,” said Bixiou.  “Listen, my dear boy.  Marriage has been out of favor for some time past; but, apart from the advantages it offers in being the only recognized way of certifying heredity, as it affords a good-looking young man, though penniless, the opportunity of making his fortune in two months, it survives in spite of disadvantages.  And there is not the man living who would not repent, sooner or later, of having, by his own fault, lost the chance of marrying thirty thousand francs a year.”

“You won’t understand me,” cried Lousteau, in a voice of exasperation.  “Go away—­she is there——­”

“I beg your pardon; why did you not tell me sooner?—­You are of age, and so is she,” he added in a lower voice, but loud enough to be heard by Dinah.  “She will make you repent bitterly of your happiness!——­”

“If it is a folly, I intend to commit it.—­Good-bye.”

“A man gone overboard!” cried Bixiou.

“Devil take those friends who think they have a right to preach to you,” said Lousteau, opening the door of the bedroom, where he found Madame de la Baudraye sunk in an armchair and dabbing her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

“Oh, why did I come here?” sobbed she.  “Good Heavens, why indeed?  —­Etienne, I am not so provincial as you think me.—­You are making a fool of me.”

“Darling angel,” replied Lousteau, taking Dinah in his arms, lifting her from her chair, and dragging her half dead into the drawing-room, “we have both pledged our future, it is sacrifice for sacrifice.  While I was loving you at Sancerre, they were engaging me to be married here, but I refused.—­Oh!  I was extremely distressed——­”

“I am going,” cried Dinah, starting wildly to her feet and turning to the door.

“You will stay here, my Didine.  All is at an end.  And is this fortune so lightly earned after all?  Must I not marry a gawky, tow-haired creature, with a red nose, the daughter of a notary, and saddle myself with a stepmother who could give Madame de Piedefer points on the score of bigotry—­”

Pamela flew in, and whispered in Lousteau’s ear: 

“Madame Schontz!”

Lousteau rose, leaving Dinah on the sofa, and went out.

“It is all over with you, my dear,” said the woman.  “Cardot does not mean to quarrel with his wife for the sake of a son-in-law.  The lady made a scene—­something like a scene, I can tell you!  So, to conclude, the head-clerk, who was the late head-clerk’s deputy for two years, agrees to take the girl with the business.”

“Mean wretch!” exclaimed Lousteau.  “What! in two hours he has made up his mind?”

“Bless me, that is simple enough.  The rascal, who knew all the dead man’s little secrets, guessed what a fix his master was in from overhearing a few words of the squabble with Madame Cardot.  The notary relies on your honor and good feeling, for the affair is settled.  The clerk, whose conduct has been admirable, went so far as to attend mass!  A finished hypocrite, I say—­just suits the mamma.  You and Cardot will still be friends.  He is to be a director in an immense financial concern, and he may be of use to you.—­So you have been waked from a sweet dream.”