hair, then--perhaps----"

"What can you say against Monsieur de Rastignac?"

"Madame de Nucingen has made a banker of him," she said with meaning.

"And our cousin, the Vicomte de Portenduere?"

"A mere boy, who dances badly; besides, he has no fortune. And, after
all, papa, none of these people have titles. I want, at least, to be a
countess like my mother."

"Have you seen no one, then, this winter----"

"No, papa."

"What then do you want?"

"The son of a peer of France.

"My dear girl, you are mad!" said Monsieur de Fontaine, rising.

But he suddenly lifted his eyes to heaven, and seemed to find a fresh
fount of resignation in some religious thought; then, with a look of
fatherly pity at his daughter, who herself was moved, he took her
hand, pressed it, and said with deep feeling: "God is my witness, poor
mistaken child, I have conscientiously discharged my duty to you as a
father--conscientiously, do I say? Most lovingly, my Emilie. Yes, God
knows! This winter I have brought before you more than one good man,
whose character, whose habits, and whose temper were known to me, and
all seemed worthy of you. My child, my task is done. From this day forth
you are the arbiter of your fate, and I consider myself both happy
and unhappy at finding myself relieved of the heaviest of paternal
functions. I know not whether you will for any long time, now, hear a
voice which, to you, has never been stern; but remember that conjugal
happiness does not rest so much on brilliant qualities and ample fortune
as on reciprocal esteem. This happiness is, in its nature, modest, and
devoid of show. So now, my dear, my consent is given beforehand, whoever
the son-in-law may be whom you introduce to me; but if you should be
unhappy, remember you will have no right to accuse your father. I shall
not refuse to take proper steps and help you, only your choice must be
serious and final. I will never twice compromise the respect due to my
white hairs."

The affection thus expressed by her father, the solemn tones of his
urgent address, deeply touched Mademoiselle de Fontaine; but she
concealed her emotion, seated herself on her father's knees--for he had
dropped all tremulous into his chair again--caressed him fondly, and
coaxed him so engagingly that the old man's brow cleared. As soon as
Emilie thought that her father had got over his painful agitation,
she said in a gentle voice: "I have to thank you for your graceful
attention