charge you, and
on that condition I pardon everything, I forget everything; and what is
more," and she held out her hand to him, "I restore my love."

Bonacieux was cowardly and avaricious, but he loved his wife. He
was softened. A man of fifty cannot long bear malice with a wife of
twenty-three. Mme. Bonacieux saw that he hesitated.

"Come! Have you decided?" said she.

"But, my dear love, reflect a little upon what you require of me. London
is far from Paris, very far, and perhaps the commission with which you
charge me is not without dangers?"

"What matters it, if you avoid them?"

"Hold, Madame Bonacieux," said the mercer, "hold! I positively refuse;
intrigues terrify me. I have seen the Bastille. My! Whew! That's a
frightful place, that Bastille! Only to think of it makes my flesh
crawl. They threatened me with torture. Do you know what torture is?
Wooden points that they stick in between your legs till your bones
stick out! No, positively I will not go. And, MORBLEU, why do you not go
yourself? For in truth, I think I have hitherto been deceived in you. I
really believe you are a man, and a violent one, too."

"And you, you are a woman--a miserable woman, stupid and brutal. You are
afraid, are you? Well, if you do not go this very instant, I will have
you arrested by the queen's orders, and I will have you placed in the
Bastille which you dread so much."

Bonacieux fell into a profound reflection. He weighed the two angers
in his brain--that of the cardinal and that of the queen; that of the
cardinal predominated enormously.

"Have me arrested on the part of the queen," said he, "and I--I will
appeal to his Eminence."

At once Mme. Bonacieux saw that she had gone too far, and she was
terrified at having communicated so much. She for a moment contemplated
with fright that stupid countenance, impressed with the invincible
resolution of a fool that is overcome by fear.

"Well, be it so!" said she. "Perhaps, when all is considered, you are
right. In the long run, a man knows more about politics than a woman,
particularly such as, like you, Monsieur Bonacieux, have conversed with
the cardinal. And yet it is very hard," added she, "that a man upon
whose affection I thought I might depend, treats me thus unkindly and
will not comply with any of my fancies."

"That is because your fancies go too far," replied the triumphant
Bonacieux, "and I mistrust them."

"Well, I will give it up, then," said the young