looking at Madame Hulot. "You will not meet with such an old man,
or such a young lover," he said after a pause, "because you love
your daughter too well to hand her over to the manoeuvres of an old
libertine, and because you--the Baronne Hulot, sister of the old
Lieutenant-General who commanded the veteran Grenadiers of the Old
Guard--will not condescend to take a man of spirit wherever you may find
him; for he might be a mere craftsman, as many a millionaire of to-day
was ten years ago, a working artisan, or the foreman of a factory.

"And then, when you see the girl, urged by her twenty years, capable of
dishonoring you all, you will say to yourself, 'It will be better that I
should fall! If Monsieur Crevel will but keep my secret, I will earn
my daughter's portion--two hundred thousand francs for ten years'
attachment to that old gloveseller--old Crevel!'--I disgust you no
doubt, and what I am saying is horribly immoral, you think? But if you
happened to have been bitten by an overwhelming passion, you would find
a thousand arguments in favor of yielding--as women do when they are in
love.--Yes, and Hortense's interests will suggest to your feelings such
terms of surrendering your conscience----"

"Hortense has still an uncle."

"What! Old Fischer? He is winding up his concerns, and that again is the
Baron's fault; his rake is dragged over every till within his reach."

"Comte Hulot----"

"Oh, madame, your husband has already made thin air of the old General's
savings. He spent them in furnishing his singer's rooms.--Now, come; am
I to go without a hope?"

"Good-bye, monsieur. A man easily gets over a passion for a woman of my
age, and you will fall back on Christian principles. God takes care of
the wretched----"

The Baroness rose to oblige the captain to retreat, and drove him back
into the drawing-room.

"Ought the beautiful Madame Hulot to be living amid such squalor?" said
he, and he pointed to an old lamp, a chandelier bereft of its gilding,
the threadbare carpet, the very rags of wealth which made the large
room, with its red, white, and gold, look like a corpse of Imperial
festivities.

"Monsieur, virtue shines on it all. I have no wish to owe a handsome
abode to having made of the beauty you are pleased to ascribe to me a
_man-trap_ and _a money-box for five-franc pieces_!"

The captain bit his lips as he recognized the words he had used to
vilify Josepha's avarice.

"And for whom are you so