"

M. Chamblard's agitation did not escape M. Derame.

"Is it a serious matter?" he asked.

"Yes."

"We can stop if you wish."

"Yes; but first of all, did Mme. and Mlle. Derame leave here this
morning on the express for Marseilles?"

"Yes, at 9.55. Why do you ask that? Has there been any accident?"

"No, no accident; it can't be called that; on the contrary. Come, come
into the little parlor."

He told him everything, showed him the despatch, gave him certain
necessary explanations about the words, such as Number Three. And there
they were, choking, delighted--both the father of the young man and the
father of the young girl. What luck, what a providential meeting!

"But you told me that your son didn't wish to marry."

"He didn't wish to, but he has seen your daughter, and now he wishes to.
Come, hurry up and send a telegram to Marseilles to Mme. Derame."

"But she will be thunderstruck when I present to her a son-in-law by
telegraph."

Return of the footman. It was a despatch for M. Derame. He opens it.

"It's from my wife, from Macon, 2.15."

"Good," says M. Chamblard; "all goes well, very well."

"Very disturbed. Met in the train the son of M. C., of Rue Rougemont,
your club friend. He was presented by Maurice. You often spoke to me of
a possible alliance there. Evidently he thinks her charming. Just at
present he is talking to her, and looks at her, looks at her. What shall
I do? Shall I put a stop to it or allow it to continue? Large fortune,
isn't there?"

M. Derame in his turn showed his despatch to M. Chamblard. They
continued to talk, in high good-humor and in excellent accord, and went
on with their game of piquet only after having sent the following two
telegrams to the Hotel de Noailles:

First despatch to Mme. Derame: "If it pleases you, if it pleases her,
yes. Enormous fortune."

Second despatch to Raoul: "Have spoken to D. He is telegraphing to Mme.
D. He approves, so do I."

A footman carried the two despatches at the same time to the
telegraph-office in the Place de la Bourse, and during the time that,
running over the wires along the railroad, they passed the express
towards half-past six in the neighborhood of Saint-Rambert, the Derames,
Raoul, and Maurice, in the best possible spirits and in most perfect
harmony, dined at the same table, and Martha looked at Raoul, and Raoul
looked at Martha, and Mme. Derame said to herself: "Martha's falling in
love; I know her, she is fal