With an almost unconscious movement, the sick woman pushed his hand away, exclaiming, sullenly:
"Wait a minute, can't you? You needn't be afraid that anybody is going to eat your gold."
"On the contrary, that is exactly what I would like you to do, on condition, of course—"
"But I know Mariette, and she would never consent," replied the sick woman, with her eyes still fixed longingly upon the shining coins.
"Nonsense!"
"But she is an honest girl, I tell you. She might listen to a man she loved, as so many girls do, but to you, never. She would absolutely refuse. She has her ideas—oh, you needn't laugh."
"Oh, I know Mariette is a virtuous girl. Madame Jourdan, for whom your goddaughter has worked for years, has assured me of that fact; but I know, too, that you have a great deal of influence over her. She is dreadfully afraid of you, Madame Jourdan says, so I am sure that you can, if you choose, persuade or, if need be, compel Mariette to accept—what? Simply an unlooked-for piece of good fortune, for you are housed like beggars and almost starving, that is evident. Suppose you refuse, what will be the result? The girl, with all her fine disinterestedness, will be fooled sooner or later by some scamp in her own station in life, and—"
"That is possible, but she will not have sold herself."
"That is all bosh, as you'll discover some day when her lover deserts her, and she has to do what so many other girls do to save herself from starving."
