His brother Cyprien remained silent so as to allow full swing to this revolt, the vehemence of which was a delight to his own instincts. He pressed his brothe hand.
“Tha right! Tha the way to speak.... I can see you are a true Raindal. You do not like to be goaded.... You kick.... Tha right! I hope when you meet that person....”
“I am seeing him to-night,” M. Raindal said, putting a sudden damper on his eagerness.
“To-night?” the ex-official muttered with surprise. “How?... Where?...”
“At his house.... He is giving a dance....”
“And you are going?”
“Well, yes!... A marriage for Thérèse.... A young man, a young savant, is to be introduced to us.”
Cyprien laid a hand on the polished dome of his head and said dreamily:
“Ah! ah! A match for my nephew.” (He always called Thérèse his nephew because of her masculine ways.) “Good! That is a reason.... Well, I have an idea that my nephew will not accept that young savant.... However, you are right; one has to see.... But be cautious! Your Saulvard seems to me utterly worthless ... and I would not be inclined to trust anything that came from that quarter....”
M. Raindal rose to his feet.