if to such a question she answered _you_? To avow our love for him we
love, when he loves us--ah! that may be; but even when we are certain of
being loved forever, believe me, monsieur, it is an effort for us, and a
reward to him. To say to another!--"

She did not end her sentence, but rose, bowed to the old man, and
withdrew into her private apartments, the doors of which, opening and
closing behind her, had a language of their own to his sagacious ears.

"Ah! the mischief!" thought he; "what a woman! she is either a sly one
or an angel"; and he got into his hired coach, the horses of which were
stamping on the pavement of the silent courtyard, while the coachman
was asleep on his box after cursing for the hundredth time his tardy
customer.

The next morning about eight o'clock the old gentleman mounted the
stairs of a house in the rue de l'Observance where Octave de Camps was
living. If there was ever an astonished man it was the young professor
when he beheld his uncle. The door was unlocked, his lamp still burning;
he had been sitting up all night.

"You rascal!" said Monsieur de Bourbonne, sitting down in the nearest
chair; "since when is it the fashion to laugh at uncles who have
twenty-six thousand francs a year from solid acres to which we are the
sole heir? Let me tell you that in the olden time we stood in awe of
such uncles as that. Come, speak up, what fault have you to find with
me? Haven't I played my part as uncle properly? Did I ever require you
to respect me? Have I ever refused you money? When did I shut the door
in your face on pretence that you had come to look after my health?
Haven't you had the most accommodating and the least domineering uncle
that there is in France,--I won't say Europe, because that might be too
presumptuous. You write to me, or you don't write,--no matter, I live
on pledged affection, and I am making you the prettiest estate in all
Touraine, the envy of the department. To be sure, I don't intend to
let you have it till the last possible moment, but that's an excusable
little fancy, isn't it? And what does monsieur himself do?--sells his
own property and lives like a lackey!--"

"Uncle--"

"I'm not talking about uncles, I'm talking nephew. I have a right to
your confidence. Come, confess at once; it is much the easiest way; I
know that by experience. Have you been gambling? have you lost money
at the Bourse? Say, 'Uncle, I'm a wretch,' and I'll hug you. But if you
tel