"I hear," replied Dutertre, who, not less astonished than his wife, was listening with involuntary anxiety.
"How can I, M. Pascal, how can I make you loved?" asked Sophie.
"You can do so, my dear Madame Dutertre."
"Although it seems incomprehensible to me, bless God for it. If I have the magic power you attribute to me, my dear M. Pascal," replied Sophie, with her sweetest smile, "then you will be loved, as you deserve to be."
"Counting on your promise, then, I will not travel four roads, but confess at once, my dear Madame Dutertre, that I am in love with Mlle. Antonine Hubert."
"Antonine!" exclaimed Sophie, astounded; while Dutertre, seated before his desk, turned abruptly to his wife, whose astonishment he shared.
"Antonine!" replied Sophie, as if she could not believe what she had heard. "You love Antonine!"
"Yes, it is she. I met her to-day in your house, for the fourth time, only I have never spoken to her. However, my mind is made up, for I am one of those people who decide quickly and by instinct. For instance, when it was necessary for me to come to the aid of this brave Dutertre, the thing was done in two hours. Well, the ravishing beauty of Mlle. Antonine, the purity of her face, a something, I know not what, tells me that this young person has the best qualities in the world,—all has contributed to render me madly in love with her, and to desire in a marriage of love, like yours, my dear Madame Dutertre, that inward happiness, those joys of the heart, that you believe me worthy of knowing and enjoying."
"Monsieur," said Sophie, with painful embarrassment, "permit me—"
"One word more, it is love at first sight, you will say,—that may be, but there are twenty examples of love as sudden as they are deep. Besides, as I have told you, I am plainly a man of instinct, of presentiment; with a single glance of the eye, I have always judged a thing good or bad. Why should I not follow in marriage a method which has always perfectly succeeded with me? I have told you that it depends entirely on you to make Mlle. Antonine love me. I will explain. At fifteen years, and she seems hardly to be so old as that, young girls have no wills of their own. You have acted as mother to Mlle. Antonine, as Dutertre has told me; you possess great influence over her, nothing would be more easy, by talking to her of me in a certain manner, when you shall have presented me to her, and that can be not later than to-morrow, can it not? I repeat, it will be easy for you to induce her to share my love, and to marry me. If I owe you this happiness, my dear Madame Dutertre, wait and see," added Pascal, with a tone full of emotion and sincerity. "You speak of gratitude? Well, that which you have toward me would be ingratitude, compared with what I would feel toward you!"