“We will talk it over later on,” answered Francis du Hautoy, ex-consul-general. “Mme. de Senonches’ positon has altered very much since Mme. de Bargeton went away; we very likely might marry Françoise to some elderly country gentleman.”
“She would disgrace herself if you did,” Cointet returned in his dry way. “Better marry her to some capable, ambitious young man; you could help him with your influence, and he would make a good position for his wife.”
“We shall see,” said Francis du Hautoy; “her godmother ought to be consulted first, in any case.”
When M. de Bargeton died, his wife sold the great house in the Rue du Minage. Mme. de Senonches, finding her own house scarcely large enough, persuaded M. de Senonches to buy the Hôtel de Bargeton, the cradle of Lucien Chardon’s ambitions, the scene of the earliest events in his career. Zéphirine de Senonches had it in mind to succeed to Mme. de Bargeton; she, too, would be a kind of queen in Angoulême; she would have “a salon,” and be a great lady, in short. There was a schism in Angoulême, a strife dating from the late M. de Bargeton’s duel with M. de Chandour. Some maintained that Louise de Nègrepelisse was blameless, others believed in Stanislas de Chandour’s scandals. Mme. de Senonches declared for the Bargetons, and began by winning over that faction. Many frequenters of the Hôtel de Bargeton had been so accustomed for years to their nightly game of cards in the house that they could not leave it, and Mme. de Senonches turned this fact to account. She received every evening, and certainly gained all the ground lost by Amélie de Chandour, who set up for a rival.
Francis du Hautoy, living in the inmost circle of nobility in Angoulême, went so far as to think of marrying Françoise to old M. de Séverac, Mme. du Brossard having totally failed to capture that gentleman for her daughter; and when Mme. de Bargeton reappeared as the prefect’s wife, Zéphirine’s hopes for her dear goddaughter waxed high, indeed. The Comtesse du Châtelet, so she argued, would be sure to use her influence for her champion.
Boniface Cointet had Angoulême at his fingers’ ends; he saw all the difficulties at a glance, and resolved to sweep them out of the way by a bold stroke that only a Tartuffe’s brain could invent. The puny lawyer was not a little amazed to find his fellow-conspirator keeping his word with him; not a word did Petit-Claud utter; he respected the musings of his companion, and they walked the whole way from the paper mill to the Rue du Minage in silence.
“Monsieur and madame are at breakfast”—this announcement met the ill-timed visitors on the steps.
“Take in our names, all the same,” said the tall Cointet; and feeling sure of his position, he followed immediately behind the servant and introduced his companion to the elaborately-affected Zéphirine, who was breakfasting in company with M. Francis du Hautoy and Mlle. de la Haye. M. de Senonches had gone, as usual, for a day’s shooting over M. de Pimentel’s land.
“M. Petit-Claud is the young lawyer of whom I spoke to you, madame; he will go through the trust accounts when your fair ward comes of age.”
The ex-diplomatist made a quick scrutiny of Petit-Claud, who, for his part, was looking furtively at the “fair ward.” As for Zéphirine, who heard of the matter for the first time, her surprise was so great that she dropped her fork.
Mlle. de la Haye, a shrewish young woman with an ill-tempered face, a waist that could scarcely be called slender, a thin figure, and colorless, fair hair, in spite of a certain little air that she had, was by no means easy to marry. The “parentage unknown” on her birth certificate was the real bar to her entrance into the sphere where her godmother’s affection stove to establish her. Mlle. de la Haye, ignorant of her real position, was very hard to please; the richest merchant in L’Houmeau had found no favor in her sight. Cointet saw the sufficiently significant expression of the young lady’s face at the sight of the little lawyer, and turning, beheld a precisely similar grimace on Petit-Claud’s countenance. Mme. de Senonches and Francis looked at each other, as if in search of an excuse for getting rid of the visitors. All this Cointet saw. He asked M. du Hautoy for the favor of a few minutes’ speech with him, and the pair went together into the drawing-room.
“Fatherly affection is blinding you, sir,” he said bluntly. “You will not find it an easy thing to marry your daughter; and, acting in your interest throughout, I have put you in a position from which you cannot draw back; for I am fond of Françoise, she is my ward. Now—Petit-Claud knows everything! His overweening ambition is a guarantee for our dear child’s happiness; for, in the first place, Françoise will do as she likes with her husband; and, in the second, he wants your influence. You can ask the new prefect for the post of crown attorney for him in the court here. M. Milaud is definitely appointed to Nevers, Petit-Claud will sell his practice, you will have no difficulty in obtaining a deputy public prosecutor’s place for him; and it will not be long before he becomes attorney for the crown, president of the court, deputy, what you will.”
Francis went back to the dining-room and behaved charmingly to his daughter’s suitor. He gave Mme. de Senonches a look, and brought the scene to a close with an invitation to dine with them on the morrow; Petit-Claud must come and discuss the business in hand. He even went downstairs and as far as the corner with the visitors, telling Petit-Claud that after Cointet’s recommendation, both he and Mme. de Senonches were disposed to approve all that Mlle. de la Haye’s trustee had arranged for the welfare of that little angel.
“Oh!” cried Petit-Claud, as they came away, “what a plain
