He was startled, thunderstruck.  He never had foreseen that such a catastrophe could occur, nor had the least suspicion that anything had passed between his daughter and M. Larinski.  Of all the ideas that had suggested themselves to him, this seemed the least admissible, the most improbable and ridiculous.  After a long silence, he said to Antoinette, “You want to frighten me—­this is not serious.”

“Do you dislike M. Larinski?” she asked.

“Certainly not; I by no means dislike him.  He has good manners, he speaks well, and I must acknowledge that he had a very graceful way of taking me from off my rock, where I should still be had it not been for him.  I am grateful to him for it; but, from that to giving him my daughter, there is a wide margin.  If he wanted me to give him a medal he should have it.”

“Let us talk seriously,” said she.  “What objections have you to make?”

“First, M. Larinski is a stranger, and I mistrust strangers.  Then, I know him but slightly.  I naturally demand additional information.  Finally, I own that the state of his affairs—­”

“Ah! that is the main point,” she interrupted.  “He is poor; that is his crime, which he has not disguised.  How differently we think!  I have some fortune; its only advantage that I can see is that it makes me free to marry the man I esteem, though he be poor.”

“And perhaps a little because of that very reason,” interrupted M. Moriaz, in his turn.  “Come, I entreat you, let me explain the anxieties arising from my miserable good sense.  M. Larinski has related his history to us.  Frankly, do you not think that it is rather that—­what shall I say—­of an adventurer?  The word shocks you—­I take it back—­but you must admit that this Pole belongs to the—­ambulatory family.”

“Or family of heroes,” she replied.

“That is it, of wandering heroes.  I wish all manner of good to heroes, although I never have clearly discovered their use.  At all events, I am not sure that they are the best qualified men in the world to make a wife happy, and I intend that my daughter shall be happy.”

“You are not convinced as I am that M. Larinski has a superior mind, and a heart of gold?”

“A heart of gold!  I should be glad to believe it.  I have no reason to doubt it; but many very skilful persons are deceived by false jewellery.  Ah! my dear, if you were better versed in chemistry, you would know how easy it is to manufacture a false trinket.  Formerly, after having cleaned the piece to be gilded, a gold amalgam was applied.  Now, the brass or copper trinket is steeped in a solution of perchloride of gold and bicarbonate of potash, and in less than a minute the thing is accomplished.  It is called gilding by immersion.  There is another process in which galvanism—­But let us admit that M. Larinski’s heart is real gold.  In the purest gold there is usually some alloy, to dispense with which resort must be had to the cupel.  Do you not know what a cupel is?  It is a small capsule or cup of a porous substance, used in the refining process, and possessing the property of absorbing the fused oxides and retaining the refined metal.  What is the proportion of lead or of gold ore in M. Larinski’s heart?  Neither you nor I know.”