Josephine almost screamed—­“What are you doing? that is our enemy, our bitterest enemy.  He has only sold you the estate to spite us, not for the love of you.  I had—­we had—­we mortified his vanity.  It was not our fault:  he is a viper.  Sir, pray, pray, pray be on your guard against his counsels.”

These words spoken with rare fire and earnestness carried conviction:  but it was too late to recall the invitation.  The notary entered the room, and was going to bow obsequiously to Raynal, when he caught sight of Josephine, and almost started.  Raynal, after Josephine’s warning, was a little at a loss how to make him available; and even that short delay gave the notary’s one foible time to lead him into temptation.  “Our foibles are our manias.”

“So,” said he, “you have taken possession, commandant.  These military men are prompt, are they not, mademoiselle?”

“Do not address yourself to me, sir, I beg,” said Josephine quietly.

Perrin kept his self-command.  “It is only as Commandant Raynal’s agent I presume to address so distinguished a lady:  in that character I must inform you that whatever movables you have removed are yours:  those we find in the house on entering we keep.”

“Come, come, not so fast,” cried Raynal; “bother the chairs and tables! that is not the point.”

“Commandant,” said the notary with dignity, “have I done anything to merit this? have I served your interests so ill that you withdraw your confidence from me?”

“No, no, my good fellow; but you exceed your powers.  Just now I want you to take orders, not give them.”

“That is only just,” said Perrin, “and I recall my hasty remark:  excuse the susceptibility of a professional man, who is honored with the esteem of his clients; and favor me with your wishes.”

“All right,” said Raynal heartily.  “Well, then—­I want mademoiselle and her family to stay here while I go to Egypt with the First Consul.  Mademoiselle makes difficulties; it offends her delicacy.”

“Comedy!” said the notary contemptuously.

“Though her mother’s life depends on her staying here.”

“Comedy!” said Perrin.  Raynal frowned.

“Her pride (begging her pardon) is greater than her affection.”

“Farce!”

“I have pitched upon you to reconcile the two.”

“Then you have pitched upon the wrong man,” said Perrin bluntly.  He added obsequiously, “I am too much your friend.  She has been talking you over, no doubt; but you have a friend, an Ulysses, who is deaf to the siren’s voice.  I will be no party to such a transaction.  I will not co-operate to humbug my friend and rob him of his rights.”

If Josephine was inferior to the notary in petty sharpness, she was his superior in the higher kinds of sagacity; and particularly in instinctive perception of character.  Her eye flashed with delight at the line Perrin was now taking with Raynal.  The latter speedily justified her expectations:  he just told Perrin to be off, and send him a more accommodating notary.