“Thanks, my good uncle.”

“’He has poisoned your life when he should have added to your happiness; he is a constant anxiety and sorrow to your maternal heart.  I have come to offer my regrets for your past trouble, and to assure you that you will have no annoyance in the future.  I am now rich, and henceforth take the whole responsibility of Raoul upon myself.  I will provide handsomely for him.’”

“Is that what you call a scheme?”

“Parbleu, you will soon see whether it is.  After listening to this speech, Mme. Fauvel will feel inclined to throw herself in my arms, by way of expressing her gratitude and joy.  She will refrain, however, on account of her niece.  She will ask me to relinquish my claim on Madeleine’s hand, now that I am rich.  I will roundly tell her, No.  I will make this an opportunity for an edifying display of magnanimity and disinterestedness.  I will say, ’Madame, you have accused me of cupidity.  I am now able to prove your injustice.  I have been infatuated, as every man must be, by the beauty, grace, and intelligence of Mlle. Madeleine; and—­I love her.  If she were penniless, my devotion would only be the more ardent.  She has been promised to me, and I must insist upon this one article of our agreement.  This must be the price of my silence.  And, to prove that I am not influenced by her fortune, I give you my sacred promise, that, the day after the wedding, I will send Raoul a stock receipt of twenty-five thousand livres per annum.”

Louis expressed himself with such convincing candor, that Raoul, an artist in knavery, was charmed and astonished.

“Beautifully done,” he cried, clapping his hands with glee.  “That last sentence will create a chasm between Mme. Fauvel and her niece.  The promise of a fortune for me will certainly bring my mother over to our side.”

“I hope so,” said Louis with pretended modesty.  “And I have strong reasons for hoping so, as I shall be able to furnish the good lady with excellent arguments for excusing herself in her own eyes.  You know when someone proposes some little—­what shall we call it?—­transaction to an honest person, it must be accompanied by justifications sufficient to quiet all qualms of conscience.  I shall prove to Mme. Fauvel and her niece that Prosper has shamefully deceived them.  I shall prove to them that he is cramped by debts, dissipated, and a reckless gambler, openly associating with a woman of no character.”

“And very pretty, besides, by Jove!  You must not neglect to expatiate upon the beauty and fascinations of the adorable Gypsy; that will be your strongest point.”

“Don’t be alarmed; I shall be more eloquent than a popular divine.  Then I will explain to Mme. Fauvel that if she really loves her niece, she will persuade her to marry, not an insignificant cashier, but a man of position, a great manufacturer, a marquis, and, more than this, one rich enough to establish you in the world.”