“Oh! he is not a phoenix, in fact I think him a bit of a fool. Besides which, I mistrust those men who have never had any youth and who do not risk a stride in life without thinking about it for years beforehand. On leaving college, where his headaches prevented him completing his studies, he remained for fifteen years a mere clerk before daring to touch his hundred thousand francs, the interest of which, it seems, his father was cheating him out of all the time. No, no, he is not up to much.”
Monsieur Josserand, who until then had kept silent, ventured an observation.
“But, my dear, why insist so obstinately on this marriage? If the young man’s health is so bad——”
“Oh! it is not bad health that need prevent it,” interrupted Bachelard. “Berthe would find no difficulty in marrying again.”
“However, if he is incapable,” resumed the father, “if he is likely to make our daughter unhappy——”
“Unhappy!” cried Madame Josserand. “Say at once that I throw my child at the head of the first-comer! We are among ourselves, we discuss him: he is this, he is that, not young, not handsome, not intelligent. We just talk the matter over, do we not? it is but natural. Only, he is very well, we shall never find a better; and, shall I tell you? it is a most unexpected match for Berthe. I was about to give up all hope, on my word of honor!” She rose to her feet. Monsieur Josserand, reduced to silence, pushed back his chair.
“I have only one fear,” continued she, making a resolute stand before her brother, “and that is that he may break it off if he is not paid the dowry on the day the contract is to be signed. It is easy to understand, he is in want of money——”
But at this moment a hot breathing, which she heard behind her, caused her to turn round. Saturnin was there, passing his head round the partly opened door, his eyes glaring like a wolf’s as he listened to what was being said. And it created quite a panic, for he had stolen a spit from the kitchen, to spit the geese, said he. Uncle Bachelard, feeling very uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking, availed himself of the general alarm.
“Don’t disturb yourselves,” cried he, from the ante-room. “I’m off, I’ve an appointment at midnight, with one of my customers, who’s come specially from Brazil.”
When they had succeeded in getting Saturnin to bed, Madame Josserand, exasperated, declared that it was impossible to keep him any longer. He would end by doing some one an injury, if he was not shut up in a madhouse. Life was unbearable with him always to be kept in hiding. His sisters would never get married, so long as he was there to disgust and frighten people.