"Well, by reason of other circumstances with which you will soon be made conversant, your ward and M. Olivier fell in love with each other, he still supposing Mlle. de Beaumesnil to be a friendless and penniless orphan, and so unhappy in her home relations that he felt that he was, and in fact was, exceedingly generous in offering to marry her when he was made an officer."
"In short," exclaimed the baron, straightening himself up to his full height, and speaking in triumphant tones,—"in short, Ernestine and the other young girl are simply one and the same person."
"Precisely," responded the hunchback.
"And so," continued the baron, wiping the perspiration which his Herculean mental efforts had produced from his brow,—"and so you wished to find out if Olivier loved the other, the poor girl, enough to resist, for her sake, the temptation to marry the richest heiress in France?"
"Exactly, baron."
"Hence your romantic story that Mlle. de Beaumesnil had seen Olivier during his stay at the château and had fallen in love with him."
"It was necessary to find some plausible excuse for the proposal you were commissioned to make to him. This story furnished it, and I must say that you played your part admirably. And M. Olivier,—well, was I wrong in assuring you that M. Olivier Raymond was the soul of honour?"
"He is, indeed!" exclaimed the baron. "Listen, marquis. I am not inclined to revert to the past, but I admit that I considered this a very unsuitable marriage for my ward. Ah, well, now I distinctly assert, affirm, and declare that, after what I have just seen and heard, if my ward were my own daughter, I should say to her: 'Marry M. Raymond, by all means. You could not make a better choice.'"
"Ah, monsieur, I shall never forget those words!" cried Ernestine.
"But this is not all, my dear baron."