“I believe that you exaggerate,” remarked M. Daburon, timidly.

“By no means.  Trust to my experience which is far greater than yours.  Besides, when I find a son-in-law, he will cause me a thousand troubles.  Of this, I am assured by my lawyer.  I shall be compelled, it seems, to render an account of Claire’s patrimony.  As if ever I kept accounts!  It is shameful!  Ah! if Claire had any sense of filial duty, she would quietly take the veil in some convent.  I would use every effort to pay the necessary dower; but she has no affection for me.”

M. Daburon felt that now was the time to speak.  He collected his courage, as a good horseman pulls his horse together when going to leap a hedge, and in a voice, which he tried to render firm, he said:  “Well!  Madame, I believe I know a party who would suit Mademoiselle Claire,—­an honest man, who loves her, and who will do everything in the world to make her happy.”

“That,” said Madame d’Arlange, “is always understood.”

“The man of whom I speak,” continued the magistrate, “is still young, and is rich.  He will be only too happy to receive Mademoiselle Claire without a dowry.  Not only will he decline an examination of your accounts of guardianship, but he will beg you to invest your fortune as you think fit.”

“Really!  Daburon, my friend, you are by no means a fool!” exclaimed the old lady.

“If you prefer not to invest your fortune in a life-annuity, your son-in-law will allow you sufficient to make up what you now find wanting.”

“Ah! really I am stifling,” interrupted the marchioness.  “What! you know such a man, and have never yet mentioned him to me!  You ought to have introduced him long ago.”

“I did not dare, madame, I was afraid—­”

“Quick! tell me who is this admirable son-in-law, this white blackbird? where does he nestle?”

The magistrate felt a strange fluttering of the heart; he was going to stake his happiness on a word.  At length he stammered, “It is I, madame!”

His voice, his look, his gesture were beseeching.  He was surprised at his own audacity, frightened at having vanquished his timidity, and was on the point of falling at the old lady’s feet.  She, however, laughed until the tears came into her eyes, then shrugging her shoulders, she said:  “Really, dear Daburon is too ridiculous, he will make me die of laughing!  He is so amusing!” After which she burst out laughing again.  But suddenly she stopped, in the very height of her merriment, and assumed her most dignified air.  “Are you perfectly serious in all you have told me, M. Daburon?” she asked.

“I have stated the truth,” murmured the magistrate.

“You are then very rich?”

“I inherited, madame, from my mother, about twenty thousand francs a year.  One of my uncles, who died last year, bequeathed me over a hundred thousand crowns.  My father is worth about a million.  Were I to ask him for the half to-morrow, he would give it to me; he would give me all his fortune, if it were necessary to my happiness, and be but too well contented, should I leave him the administration of it.”