"A marriage!" cried Gerald, bounding out of his chair.
"Yes, a marriage—with the richest heiress in France," replied Madame de Senneterre.
Then, without making any effort to conceal her uneasiness, she continued:
"If it were not for your conduct, we should have every chance in our favour, though suitors and rivals will soon be pouring in on every side. There will be a hard struggle for the prize, and Heaven knows even the truth will be terribly damaging to you. Ah, if with your name, your talents, and your face you were a model of virtue and propriety like that excellent M. de Macreuse, for example—"
"But are you really thinking seriously of this marriage, mother?" asked Gerald, more and more astonished.
"Am I thinking of it seriously? You ask me that?"
"My dear mother, I am infinitely grateful to you for your kind intentions, but I repeat that I have no desire to marry."
"What is that you say?"
"I say, my dear mother, that I have no intention of marrying anybody."
"Mon Dieu! he is mad!" cried Madame de Senneterre. "He refuses the richest heiress in France!"