I took leave of Mme. Duvernoy, who seemed almost as preoccupied as Marguerite, and went on to my father’s; his first glance seemed to study me attentively. He held out his hand.
“Your two visits have given me pleasure, Armand,” he said; “they make me hope that you have thought over things on your side as I have on mine.”
“May I ask you, father, what was the result of your reflection?”
“The result, my dear boy, is that I have exaggerated the importance of the reports that had been made to me, and that I have made up my mind to be less severe with you.”
“What are you saying, father?” I cried joyously.
“I say, my dear child, that every young man must have his mistress, and that, from the fresh information I have had, I would rather see you the lover of Mlle. Gautier than of anyone else.”
“My dear father, how happy you make me!”
We talked in this manner for some moments, and then sat down to table. My father was charming all dinner time.
I was in a hurry to get back to Bougival to tell Marguerite about this fortunate change, and I looked at the clock every moment.
“You are watching the time,” said my father, “and you are impatient to leave me. O young people, how you always sacrifice sincere to doubtful affections!”