He was becoming excited: his cheeks were flushed; and his little eyes sparkled.
“And suppose I were to tell you,” he resumed, doing at least to his daughter the honor of controlling his anger: “suppose I were to tell you that I would derive from this marriage immense, positive, and immediate advantages?”
“Oh!” she interrupted with a look of disgust, “oh, for mercy’s sake!”
“Suppose I were to tell you that I have a powerful interest in it; that it is indispensable to the success of vast combinations?”
Mlle. Gilberte looked straight at him.
“I would answer you,” she exclaimed, “that it does not suit me to be made use of as an earnest to your combinations. Ah! it’s an operation, is it? an enterprise, a big speculation? and you throw in your daughter in the bargain as a bonus. Well, no! You can tell your partner that the thing has fallen through.”
M. Favoral’s anger was growing with each word.
“I’ll see if I can’t make you yield,” he said.
“You may crush me, perhaps. Make me yield, never!”
“Well, we shall see. You will see—Maxence and you—whether there are no means by which a father can compel his rebellious children to submit to his authority.”