"Then she is not married?" asked Charles Dutertre.
"I do not know, my dear," replied his wife, "she signs only her baptismal name."
"But why should I ask such an absurd question? — think of a married saint!"
At that moment the servant entered, and, stopping on the threshold of the door, made a significant sign to her mistress, who replied:
"You can speak, Julie, Mlle. Antonine is a part of the family."
"Madame," said the servant, "Agatha wants to know if she must put the chicken on the spit if M. Pascal does not come?"
"Certainly," said Madame Dutertre, "M. Pascal is a little late, but we expect him every minute."
"You are expecting some one, then, Sophie?" asked Antonine, when the servant retired. "Well, good-bye, I will see you again," added the young girl, with a sigh. "I did not come only to bring St. Madeleine's letter, I wanted to have a long chat with you. I will see you again to-morrow, dear Sophie."
"Not at all, my little Antonine. I use my authority as mother to keep my dear little girl and have her breakfast with us. It is a sort of family feast. Is it because your place was not ready, my child?"
"Come, Mlle. Antonine," said Charles, "do us the kindness to stay."
"You are a thousand times too good, M. Dutertre, but, really, I cannot accept."
"Then," replied he, "I am going to employ the greatest means of seducing you; in a word, if you will stay, you shall see the generous man who, of his own accord, came to our rescue this day a year ago, for this is the anniversary of that noble action that we are celebrating to-day."
Sophie, having forgotten the presentiment awakened in her mind by the words of her little girl, added:
"Yes, my little Antonine, at the very moment, the critical moment, when ruin threatened our business, M. Pascal said to Charles: 'Monsieur, I do not know you personally, but I know you are as just as you are laborious and intelligent; you need fifty thousand to put your business in a good condition. I offer it to you as a friend, accept it as a friend; as to interest, we will estimate that afterward, and still as a friend.'"
"That was to act nobly, indeed!" said Antonine.
"Yes," said Charles Dutertre, with profound emotion, "for it is not only my industry which he has saved, but it was the labour of the numerous workmen I employ, it was the repose of my father's old age, the happiness of my wife, the future of my children. Oh, stay with us, stay, Mlle. Antonine, the sight of such a good man is so rare, so sweet — But wait, there he is!" exclaimed M. Dutertre, as he saw M. Pascal pass the parlour window.
"I am much impressed with all Sophie and you have told me, M. Dutertre, and I regret I cannot see this generous man to whom you owe so much, but breakfast would detain me too long. I must return early. My uncle expects me, and he has passed a very painful night; in these attacks of suffering he always wants me near him, and these attacks come at any time."
Then, taking Sophie by the hand, the young girl added:
"Can I see you again soon?"
"To-morrow or day after, my dear little Antonine, I am coming to see you, and we will talk as long as you like."
The door opened; M. Pascal entered.
Antonine embraced her friend, and Sophie said to the financier, with affectionate cordiality:
"Permit me, will you not, M. Pascal, to take leave of mademoiselle. I need not say that I will hasten to return."
"No need of ceremony, my dear Madame Dutertre," stammered M. Pascal, in spite of his assurance astonished to see Antonine again, and he followed her with an intense, surly gaze until she had left the room.
CHAPTER VII
M. Pascal, at the sight of Antonine, whom he saw for the second time that morning, was, as we have said, a moment bewildered with surprise and admiration before this fresh and innocent beauty.
"At last, here you are!" said Charles Dutertre, effusively extending both hands to M. Pascal when he found himself alone with him. "Do you know we were beginning to question your promptness? All the week my wife and I have looked forward with joy to this day, for, after the anniversary of the birth of our children, the day that we celebrate with the most pleasure is the one from which dates, thanks to you, the security of their future. It is so good, so sweet to feel, by the gratitude of our hearts, the lofty nobleness of those generous deeds which honour him who offers as much as him who accepts."
M. Pascal did not appear to have heard the words of M. Dutertre, and said to him:
"Who is that young girl who just went out of here?"
"Mlle. Antonine Hubert."
"Is she related to President Hubert, who has lately been so ill?"
"She is his niece."
"Ah!" said Pascal, thoughtfully.
"You know if my father were not with us," replied M. Dutertre, smiling, "our little festivity would not be complete. I am going to inform him of your arrival, my dear M. Pascal."
And as he stepped to the door of the old man's chamber, M. Pascal stopped him with a gesture, and said:
"Does not President Hubert reside — "
And as he hesitated, Dutertre added:
"In Faubourg St. Honoré. The garden joins that of the Élysée-Bourbon."
"Has this young girl lived with her uncle long?"
Dutertre, quite surprised at this persistent inquiry concerning Antonine, answered:
"About three months ago M. Hubert went to Nice for Antonine, where she lived after the death of her parents."
"And is Madame Dutertre very intimate with this young person?"
"They were together at boarding-school, where Sophie was a sort of mother to her, and ever since they have been upon the most affectionate terms."
"Ah!" said Pascal, again relapsing into deep thought.
This man possessed a great and rare faculty which had contributed to the accumulation of his immense fortune, — he could with perfect ease detach himself from any line of thought, and enter upon a totally different set of ideas. Thus, after the interview of Frantz and Antonine which he had surprised, and which had excited him so profoundly, he was able to talk with the archduke upon business affairs, and to torture him with deliberate malice.
In the same way, after this meeting with Antonine at the house of Dutertre, he postponed, so to speak, his violent resentment and his plans regarding the young girl, and said, with perfect good-nature, to Sophie's husband:
"While we wait for the return of your wife, I have a little favour to ask of you."
"At last!" exclaimed Dutertre, rubbing his hands with evident satisfaction; "better late than never."
"You had a cashier named Marcelange?"
"Yes, unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?"
"He committed, while in my employ, not an act of dishonesty, for I should not, at any price, have saved him from the punishment he merited; but he was guilty of an indelicacy under circumstances which proved to me that the man was a wretch, and I dismissed him."
"Marcelange told me, in fact, that you sent him away."
"You are acquainted with him?" replied Dutertre, in surprise, as he recalled his father's words.
"Some