“Yes, I am.  Let us be serious.  Suppose you go to see him.”

“That’s a better idea.  He may perhaps receive me.”

“In that case you will capture him.  If you can only get a man to listen—­”

“Not my uncle, Mademoiselle.  He will listen, and do you know what his answer will be?”

“What?”

“This, or something like it:  ’My worthy nephew, you have come to tell me two things, have you not?  First, that you are about to marry a Parisienne; secondly, that you renounce forever the family practice.  You merely confirm and aggravate our difference.  You have taken a step further backward.  It was not worth while your coming out of your way to tell me this, and you may return as soon as you please.’”

“You surprise me.  There must be some way of getting at him, if he is really good-hearted, as you say.  If I could see your uncle I should soon find out a way.”

“If you could see him!  Yes, that would be the best way of all; it couldn’t help succeeding.  He imagines you as a flighty Parisienne; he is afraid of you; he is more angry with me for loving you than for refusing to carry on his practice.  If he could only see you, he would soon forgive me.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Do you think that if I were to look him in the face, as I now look at you, and to say to him:  ’Monsieur Mouillard, will you not consent to my becoming your niece?’ do you think that then he would give in?”

“Alas!  Mademoiselle, why can not it be tried?”

“It certainly is difficult, but I won’t say it can not.”

We explained, or rather Jeanne explained, the case to M. Charnot, who is assuredly her earliest and most complete conquest.  At first he cried out against the idea.  He said it was entirely my business, a family matter in which he had no right to interfere.  She insisted.  She carried his scruples by storm.  She boldly proposed a trip to Bourges, and a visit to M. Mouillard.  She overflowed with reasons, some of them rather weak, but all so prettily urged!  A trip to Bourges would be delightful—­something so novel and refreshing!  Had M. Charnot complained on the previous evening, or had he not, of having to stop in Paris in the heat of August?  Yes, he had complained, and quite right too, for his colleagues did not hesitate to leave their work and rush off to the country.  Then she cited examples:  one off to the Vosges, another at Arcachon, yet another at Deauville.  And she reminded him, too, that a certain old lady, one of his old friends of the Faubourg St. Germain, lived only a few miles out of Bourges, and had invited him to come and see her, she didn’t know how many times, and that he had promised and promised and never kept his word.  Now he could take the opportunity of going on from Bourges to her chateau.  Finally, as M. Charnot continued to urge the singularity of such behavior, she replied: 

“My dear father! not at all; in visiting Monsieur Mouillard you will be only fulfilling a social duty.”