"That is true," said Commander Bernard. "I am as jealous of Olivier's honour as any person could possibly be, but I want to remind him that, though it is undoubtedly wrong to marry a woman for her money, it is equally wrong, when one loves the noblest of creatures, to refuse to keep a solemn promise and to repay a sacred obligation merely because the dear child has a lot of money. Just suppose, Olivier, that Mlle. Ernestine, who was so poor yesterday, has inherited nobody knows how many millions from a relative this morning, and let that be the end of it. This miserable money ought not to be allowed to ruin everybody's happiness, surely."
"Oh, thank you, M. Bernard," exclaimed Ernestine, throwing her arms around the old officer's neck, in a transport of filial affection, "thank you for those kind, wise words which M. Olivier cannot, I am sure, contradict."
"I defy him to do it," said Gerald, taking his friend's hand. "Remember, too, my dear Olivier, what you said to me a few months ago, when there was some talk of my marrying Mlle. de Beaumesnil."
"Besides, is it not Ernestine, the little embroideress that you and I have always loved so much, M. Olivier?" said Herminie, in her turn.
"And you must permit me to say, monsieur," added Madame de Senneterre, "that the disinterestedness you showed in refusing M. de la Rochaiguë's offer has made such a deep impression upon me, that in my eyes you will always be the young man who refused the richest heiress in France to marry a friendless and penniless young girl."
Olivier, though influenced in spite of himself by these proofs of esteem and sympathy, nevertheless experienced a feeling of deep humiliation at the idea of sharing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's immense fortune, so he said:
"I know that I have no right to show myself more fastidious and exacting than the persons around me in matters where honour and delicacy are involved; I know, too, that what I have just heard in relation to Mlle. de Beaumesnil has only increased—if that were possible—my respect and devoted love for her, and yet—" But the marquis, who read Olivier's thoughts, again interrupted him by saying:
"One word more, M. Olivier. You experience a sort of humiliation at the thought of sharing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's large fortune. I could understand this feeling on your part, if you saw in the immense wealth Ernestine brings you merely the means of leading an idle and luxurious life at your wife's expense. Shame and ignominy should, indeed, attach to any man who contracts such a marriage as that. But this will not be your future, M. Olivier,—nor yours, Gerald; for though you and Herminie, my daughter,—my beloved daughter,—are both ignorant of the fact, and though her fortune is not to be compared with Ernestine's, of course, I have settled upon my adopted daughter an income of about one hundred and fifty thousand francs a year from property I have just inherited in Hungary."
"Such a fortune as that for me!" exclaimed Herminie. "Oh, never, never, I beseech you—"
"Listen to me, my child," said the hunchback, interrupting her, "and you, too, listen, M. Olivier. Ernestine, in some touching pages that you will read some day,—pages dedicated to her mother's memory,—in the candour of her noble soul, wrote these words which I shall never forget: