“So you are having a chat?” said old Grandet, folding up the letter carefully in the original creases, and putting it into his waistcoat pocket.
He looked at his nephew in a shy and embarrassed way, seeking to dissemble his feelings and his calculations.
“Do you feel warmer?”
“I am very comfortable, my dear uncle.”
“Well, what ever are the women after?” his uncle went on; the fact that his nephew would sleep in the house had by that time slipped from his memory. Eugénie and Mme. Grandet came into the room as he spoke.
“Is everything ready upstairs?” the goodman inquired. He had now quite recovered himself, and recollected the facts of the case.
“Yes, father.”
“Very well then, nephew, if you are feeling tired, Nanon will show you to your room. Lord! there is nothing very smart about it, but you will overlook that here among poor vinegrowers, who never have a penny to bless themselves with. The taxes swallow up everything we have.”
“We don’t want to be intrusive, Grandet,” said the banker. “You and your nephew may have some things to talk over; we will wish you good evening. Goodbye till tomorrow.”
Everyone rose at this, and took leave after their several fashions. The old notary went out under the archway to look for his lantern, lighted it, and offered to see the des Grassins to their house. Mme. des Grassins had not been prepared for the event which had brought the evening so early to a close, and her maid had not appeared,
“Will you honor me by taking my arm, madame?” said the Abbé Cruchot, addressing Mme. des Grassins.
“Thank you, M. l’Abbé,” said the lady dryly; “my son is with me.”
“I am not a compromising acquaintance for a lady,” the Abbé continued.
“Take M. Cruchot’s arm,” said her husband.
The Abbé, with the fair lady on his arm, walked on quickly for several paces, so as to put a distance between them and the rest of the party.
“That young man is very good-looking, madame,” he said, with a pressure on her arm to give emphasis to the remark. “ ’Tis goodbye to the baskets, the vintage is over! You must give up Mlle. Grandet; Eugénie is meant for her cousin. Unless he happens to be smitten with some fair face in Paris, your son Adolphe will have yet another rival—”
“Nonsense, M. l’Abbé. It will not be long before the young man will find out that Eugénie is a girl who has nothing to say for herself; and she has gone off in looks. Did you notice her? She was as yellow as a quince this evening.”
“Which, possibly, you have already pointed out to her cousin?”
“Indeed, I have not taken the trouble—”
“If you always sit beside Eugénie, madame,” interrupted the Abbé, “you will not need to tell the young man much about his cousin; he can make his own comparisons.”
“He promised me at once to come to dine with us the day after tomorrow.”
“Ah! madame,” said the Abbé, “if you would only …”
“Would only what, M. l’Abbé? Do you mean to put evil suggestions into my mind? I have not come to the age of thirty-nine with a spotless reputation (Heaven be thanked) to compromise myself now—not for the Empire of the Great Mogul! We are both of us old enough to know what that kind of talk means; and I must say that your ideas do not square very well with your sacred calling. For shame! this is worthy of Faublas.”
“So you have read Faublas?”
“No, M. Abbé; Les Liaisons dangereuses is what I meant to say.”
“Oh! that book is infinitely more moral,” said the Abbé, laughing. “But you would make me out to be as depraved as young men are nowadays. I only meant that you—”
“Do you dare to tell me that you meant no harm? The thing is plain enough. If that young fellow (who certainly is good-looking, that I grant you) paid court to me, it would not be for the sake of my interest with that cousin of his. In Paris, I know, there are tender mothers who sacrifice themselves thus for their children’s happiness and welfare, but we are not in Paris, M. l’Abbé.”
“No, madame.”
“And,” continued she, “neither Adolphe nor I would purchase a hundred millions at such a price.”
“Madame, I said nothing about a hundred millions. Perhaps such a temptation might have been too much for either of us. Still, in my opinion, an honest woman
