"One moment," she said hoarsely, her eyes glittering with cupidity in their deep orbits, "I shall not eat your gold!"
"That is just what I am urging you to do, Mamma Lacombe; I want you to eat that gold, on condition—"
"I know Mariette," she interrupted, her wistful gaze still fixed on the gold, "she will never consent."
"Nonsense!"
"I tell you she is an upright girl. She might, like many others, yield to a man she loved; but to you—never! She would refuse, I am sure. You may laugh, but she has ideas of her own."
"Granted, my good woman. I believe in Mariette's good principles, for Madame Jourdan has known her many years and she has full confidence in her."
"Well, then?"
"Well, I also know, Mamma Lacombe, that you possess great influence over her and that she fears you like the devil himself—so Madame Jourdan informed me. Now, you can induce, or, it need be, compel Mariette to accept happiness! For, after all, you are lodged like beggars and starving to death. Besides, if you refuse, do you know what will happen? The girl, with her fine sentiments of disinterestedness, will, sooner or later, become the victim of some unscrupulous rascal as poor as herself."
"That may be, but she will not have sold her soul."
"Tut, tut, tut, those are mere phrases. Some fine day, this lover of her choice will probably desert her; then, to save herself from starvation, she will end like the rest—mark my word."