Herminie listened to this proposal with the liveliest gratitude.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, M. le marquis," she exclaimed. "I accept your kind offer gladly, and am proud to be under obligations to you."
"But I utterly refuse to be a party to any such arrangement," exclaimed M. Bouffard.
"And why, monsieur?" demanded the marquis.
"I will not,—I will not, I tell you. It sha'n't be said that—in short, I'm not such a monster that—but no matter, let it be understood, once for all, that the marquis is to keep his money. I'll try to find that young coxcomb; if I don't, I'll drop his money in the poor-box. I won't sell your piano, mademoiselle, but I'll be paid, all the same. What do you say to that?"
"Have the goodness to explain, monsieur, if you please," said the marquis.
"Well, this is the long and short of it," answered M. Bouffard. "My daughter Cornelia has a music teacher, quite a famous teacher, I believe,—a M. Tonnerriliuskoff—"
"With such a name one ought certainly to make a noise in the world," said the marquis.
"And on the piano, too, M. le marquis. He's a six-footer, with a big, black moustache, and hands as big as—as shoulders of mutton. But this famous teacher costs like the devil,—fifteen francs a lesson, to say nothing of the repairs to the piano, which he almost hammers to pieces, he is so strong. Now if mademoiselle here would give Cornelia lessons at five—no, say four francs a lesson, and three lessons a week,—that would make twelve francs a week,—she could soon pay me what she owes me, and afterwards could pay her entire rent that way."
"Bravo, M. Bouffard!" cried the marquis.