“Very well,” cried Ribaut in a ferocious voice. “She will return home with me. Come, Mademoiselle,” and he grasped her by the arm and turned away.
My brain was whirling as I saw Nanette look piteously at me. I started after them to commit I know not what act of violence, but d’Argenson waved me back.
“Stop a moment, M. Ribaut,” he called. “There is only one thing which can release your niece from the duty of obedience to you. That is her marriage. You have lost your right to exact obedience in that.”
He descended to Nanette’s side and took her hands. He smiled into her eyes, and her face brightened as she looked at him.
“I repeat, Mademoiselle,” he said, “that your marriage is the only thing which can make you independent of your uncle. It seems a pity that all these preparations should go for naught—that these candies should burn uselessly. Perhaps there is some one else present whom you would be willing to marry. The curé has assured me that he will overlook any little irregularity in the proceedings.”
His face was smiling and tender, all its ugliness vanished. I heard as in a dream.
“Oh, yes,” cried Nanette. “There is some one, Monsieur,” and she turned and looked at me.
For a moment I did not understand.
“Me?” I stammered. “Me?”
“Yes, you!” cried d’Argenson gayly. “Come, M. le Moyne, wake up!”