“Ah!—the daughter is a horse of another color. Although she seems to be so light and frisky, she is really a very serious and cool young person. I don’t know what she is aiming at, but I feel that it is something that I can never have the chance to offer her.”
Numa felt comforted: “Really—and yet you continue to go there!”
“O, yes, they are so amusing, the Bachellery family. The father, the retired manager, writes comic songs for the concert-gardens. The mother sings and acts them while frying eels in oil and making a bouillabaise that Roubion’s own isn’t a patch on. Noise, disorder, bits of music, rows—there you have the Folies Bordelaises at home. Alice rules the roost, rushes about like mad, runs the supper, sings; but never loses her head for one moment.”
“Well, gay boy, you expect her to lose it some day, do you not? and in your favor!” Suddenly becoming very serious the Minister added: “It is not a good place for you to go to, young man. The devil! You must learn to take life more seriously than you do. The Bordelaise folly cannot last all your life.”
He took his hand: “Do you never think of marrying?”
“No, indeed, Excellency. I am perfectly content as I am—unless, indeed, I should find some uncommon bonanza.”
“We could find you the bonanza—with your name, your connections ... what would you say to Mlle. Le Quesnoy?”
“O, Excellency—I never should have dared....”
Notwithstanding all his boldness, the Bordeaux man grew pale with joy and astonishment.
“Why not? You must, you must—you know how highly I esteem you, my dear boy; I should like to have you as a member of my family—I should feel stronger, more rounded out—”