"Ah, I told you that M. Olivier would not disappoint our expectations, my dear Ernestine," added Herminie.
"Wasn't I right? Didn't I tell you that he would refuse?" cried the marquis, no less delighted.
"Then why the devil did you make such a fuss about gaining my consent?" demanded the baron, forgetting his dignity in his thorough exasperation. "Why did both of you insist upon my making that young idiot such an unheard-of proposal, if you wanted him to refuse it?"
These words seemed to recall Ernestine to the fact of the baron's existence, for, releasing herself from her friend's arms, she turned a radiant face towards her guardian, and exclaimed, in tones of the most profound gratitude:
"Oh, thank you, monsieur, thank you! I shall owe the happiness of my whole life to you, and I assure you, I shall never prove ungrateful."
"But you must have misunderstood him," cried the baron, "he refuses, he refuses, he refuses, I tell you."
"Yes, he refuses," exclaimed Ernestine, ecstatically. "Ah, has he not the noblest of hearts!"
"They have certainly gone mad, every one of them," murmured the poor baron, in despair.
"But this young man is as good as married,—he won't have you! He says nothing would induce him to have you!" he fairly shouted in Ernestine's ear. "His marriage is to take place very shortly."
"Yes, thank God, there is no further obstacle to that marriage now," cried Ernestine, "so I thank you once again, M. de la Rochaiguë. I thank you with all my heart, and I shall never, never forget what you have done for me."