“Upon my word, my dear girl, I fear not. You see my mother is so dead against it.”
“But we could wait; could we not?”
“Ah, but that’s just it, Marie. We cannot wait. We must decide now,—to-day. You see I can do nothing without money from her—and as for you, you see she won’t even let you stay in the house unless you marry old Campan at once. He’s a very good sort of fellow though, old as he is. And if you do marry him, why you see you’ll stay here, and have it all your own way in everything. As for me, I shall come and see you all from time to time, and shall be able to push my way as I ought to do.”
“Then, Adolphe, you wish me to marry the capitaine?”
“Upon my honour I think it is the best thing you can do; I do indeed.”
“Oh, Adolphe!”
“What can I do for you, you know? Suppose I was to go down to my mother and tell her that I had decided to keep you myself; what would come of it? Look at it in that light, Marie.”
“She could not turn you out—you her own son!”
“But she would turn you out; and deuced quick, too, I can assure you of that; I can, upon my honour.”
“I should not care that,” and she made a motion with her hand to show how indifferent she would be to such treatment as regarded herself. “Not that—; if I still had the promise of your love.”