“You are master of the situation,” she said.  “The Prince does not suit me—­”

“Micheline loves him,” interrupted Pierre.

“She fancies so,” replied Madame Desvarennes.  “She has got it into her head, but it will wear off.  You thoroughly understand that I did not bid you to come from Africa to be present at my daughter’s wedding.  If you are a man, we shall see some fun.  Micheline is your betrothed.  You have our word, and the word of a Desvarennes is as good as the signature.—­It has never been dishonored.  Well, refuse to give us back our promise.  Gain time, make love, and take my daughter away from that dandy.”

Pierre remained silent for a few minutes.  In a moment he measured the extent of the mischief done, by seeing Micheline before consulting Madame Desvarennes.  With the help of this energetic woman he might have struggled, whereas left to his own strength, he had at the outset been vanquished and forced to lay down his arms.  Not only had he yielded, but he had drawn his ally into his defeat.

“Your encouragements come too late,” said he.  “Micheline asked me to give her back her promise, and I gave it to her.”

“You were so weak as that!” cried Madame Desvarennes.  “And she had so much boldness?  Does she dote on him so?  I suspected her plans, and I hastened to warn you.  But all is not lost.  You have given Micheline back her promise.  So be it.  But I have not given you back yours.  You are pledged to me.  I will not countenance the marriage which my daughter has arranged without my consent!  Help me to break it off.  And, faith, you could easily find another woman worth Micheline, but where shall I find a son-in-law worth you?  Come, the happiness of us all is in peril; save it!”

“Why continue the struggle?  I am beaten beforehand.”

“But if you forsake me, what can I do single-handed with Micheline?”

“Do what she wishes, as usual.  You are surprised at my giving you this advice?  It is no merit on my part.  Until now you have refused your daughter’s request; but if she comes again beseeching and crying, you who are so strong and can say so well ‘I will,’ will be weak and will not be able to refuse her her Prince.  Believe me; consent willingly.  Who knows?  Your son’-in-law may be grateful to you for it by-and-by.”

Madame Desvarennes had listened to Pierre with amazement.

“Really, you are incredible,” she said; “you discuss all this so calmly.  Have you no grief?”

“Yes,” replied Pierre, solemnly, “it is almost killing me.”

“Nonsense!  You are boasting!” cried Madame Desvarennes, vehemently.  “Ah, scholar! figures have dried up your heart!”