erceive the quite unnatural state of
the old maid's mind,--Mademoiselle Cormon was thinking!

"What are you thinking of, cousin?" she said at last, finding her
seated in the boudoir.

"I am thinking," she replied, "of that poor girl. As the president of
the Maternity Society, I will give you fifty francs for her."

"Fifty francs!" cried Madame Granson. "But you have never given as
much as that."

"But, my dear cousin, it is so natural to have children."

That immoral speech coming from the heart of the old maid staggered
the treasurer of the Maternity Society. Du Bousquier had evidently
advanced in the estimation of Mademoiselle Cormon.

"Upon my word," said Madame Granson, "du Bousquier is not only a
monster, he is a villain. When a man has done a wrong like that, he
ought to pay the indemnity. Isn't it his place rather than ours to
look after the girl?--who, to tell you the truth, seems to me rather
questionable; there are plenty of better men in Alencon than that
cynic du Bousquier. A girl must be depraved, indeed, to go after him."

"Cynic! Your son teaches you to talk Latin, my dear, which is wholly
incomprehensible. Certainly I don't wish to excuse Monsieur du
Bousquier; but pray explain to me why a woman is depraved because she
prefers one man to another."

"My dear cousin, suppose you married my son Athanase; nothing could be
more natural. He is young and handsome, full of promise, and he will
be the glory of Alencon; and yet everybody will exclaim against you:
evil tongues will say all sorts of things; jealous women will accuse
you of depravity,--but what will that matter? you will be loved, and
loved truly. If Athanase seemed to you an idiot, my dear, it is that
he has too many ideas; extremes meet. He lives the life of a girl of
fifteen; he has never wallowed in the impurities of Paris, not he!
Well, change the terms, as my poor husband used to say; it is the same
thing with du Bousquier in connection with Suzanne. /You/ would be
calumniated; but in the case of du Bousquier, the charge would be
true. Don't you understand me?"

"No more than if you were talking Greek," replied Mademoiselle Cormon,
who opened her eyes wide, and strained all the forces of her
intellect.

"Well, cousin, if I must dot all the i's, it is impossible for Suzanne
to love du Bousquier. And if the heart counts for nothing in this
affair--"

"But, cousin, what do people love with if not their hearts?"

Here Madame Granson