"You will be obliged to degrade yourself to that extent, the degradation being the more terrible, as Herminie, for certain reasons, must remain ignorant of my intention of adopting her until after your visit. So it will be to Mlle. Herminie, the poor music teacher, that you will go to give your consent to her marriage with your son."
"Never, monsieur, never will I so lower myself as to do this thing."
"But remember that there is nothing really humiliating about this step, and that no one will witness it but me, for I shall be there at the time."
"I tell you that it is impossible, monsieur. Never will I subject myself to such a humiliation."
"Then, instead of making your son adore you by consenting to a thing you cannot prevent, Gerald will know exactly what your affection is worth, and dispense with your consent entirely."
"But you cannot expect me to come to such an important decision in a moment, as it were."
"So be it, madame. I will give you until to-morrow noon. I will call then to hear your decision, and, if it conforms alike to the dictates of common sense and maternal love, I will precede you by a few moments to Herminie's home, in order that I may be there when you arrive. If you do not agree to this, I declare to you that your son will be married in less than six weeks."
Having said this, the marquis bowed low to Madame de Senneterre, and walked straight out of the room.
"I am satisfied that the egregious simpleton will do what I ask," he said to himself, "for her ambition and her avarice will both be so thoroughly gratified by this marriage that she will forget that objectionable feature,—the adoption. Besides, by one of those strange contradictions we so often see in poor, frail human nature, this woman, who in her obstinacy would drive her son to suicide, is as jealous of his affection as if she were the tenderest and most devoted of mothers; and, understanding how Gerald will adore her if she pretends to give a free consent to his marriage, she will go to Herminie, I am sure of it.
"But, alas! the game is only half won so far as I am concerned," mused the hunchback. "Will Herminie, who is so proud, consent to become my adopted child, when she knows the advantages which this adoption will give her, and which alone decided Madame de Senneterre to take the initiative? I am very much afraid that she will not. Did I not see how uncomfortable she felt when Ernestine insisted, not that she should share her wealth, but merely give up her lessons and remain with her? And yet, she perhaps knows that Ernestine is her sister, for I can doubt it no longer,—Herminie is, and knows she is, the daughter of Madame de Beaumesnil.