Pivet (who had begged I would leave this conference intirely to his management) seemed to hesitate a little, and appeared melancholy. We have had some talk about you, Madam, said he; and Mr Faulkland tells me, if you reject the nunnery scheme (which I think he seems to be fondest of), that he has a person in his thoughts, who, he believes, will be a suitable match for you, if you are willing to accept of him; if not—here he stop’d. What if I should not, Sir? Pray speak. I hope, Madam, he will not carry matters to an extremity. Extremity, Sir! Do you think he can be brutal enough to force me into a nunnery? Are there no laws in France? I hope he will not, Madam; but I can’t pretend to answer for him: he is a strange man: he seems out of temper too: the doctor told him nothing ailed you; he believes him, and spoke harshly on the occasion. And what, said she, is the match that he calls suitable? One of his footmen perhaps, or his barber?
Pivet affected to look concerned. He tells me, Madam, he has cast his eyes on a young man, well born, and genteelly educated; not contemptible in his personal accomplishments, and one who he is sure will make you a fond and obliging husband.
Pivet sighed deeply, and cast his eyes languishingly on her. You seem concerned, Sir, said she. Do you know the person? It is my doubts on that occasion, Madam, that is the cause of my uneasiness. Pray explain yourself, Mr Pivet. Madam, I dare not, he replied, with great solemnity. I will only assure you, that whoever the person be, whom Mr Faulkland has not yet named to me, I think him the happiest man in the world. What can be his meaning, asked Mrs Gerrarde, for telling you so much, and yet concealing the person’s name? He says, he has not proposed it yet to the gentleman, Madam; and as, he tells me, he can’t in honour conceal any part of your story, he is fearful—I beg your pardon, Madam; you will excuse me if I do not repeat his scruples on this occasion. I understand you, Sir. He supposes his friend will reject me. Some such insinuation he threw out, Madam, said Pivet. I told him, that he need only permit the gentleman to see you; and if he then made any objection, he must be the blindest and most insensible man alive. He spoke this with a warmth that seemed highly pleasing to the lady. She bowed, and answered, All men, Sir, are not as generous as you. But what did Mr Faulkland say to this? He only smiled, and said he wished his friend might think as I did; that he would tell me his name another time; and that, in the mean time, it would oblige him if my visits to you were less frequent. Inhuman monster, said she; would he debar me of the only satisfaction I have? Let me but live to get out of his hands! if I can escape him by any means, I will find ways to reckon with him for this. Be so good, Mr Pivet to tell him, that I am content to take the person he offers, let him be who he will: I shall expect nothing from him but insults; therefore shall not be surprized if I see myself sacrificed to some despicable wretch: but any, any thing is better than to be in the power of such a tyrant! Madam, answered Pivet, you need not fear the being compelled to accept of an unworthy object: Mr Faulkland declares, that if you should absolutely dislike the gentleman, when you see him, he will be far from constraining you to take him for your husband. The other choice is still open to you, and, by what I can judge, Mr Faulkland seems to wish you would give that the preference. I would die first, cried Mrs Gerrarde—The fool, does he think I can be so entrapped? No, no; the authority of a husband, even of Faulkland’s chusing, cannot be such a bar to my revenge as the walls of a nunnery would be.—Sir, I think myself obliged to you, and flatter myself you would have served me if you could. I may yet have it in my power to make you a return for your kind intentions towards me. I presume, when Mr Faulkland has disposed of his property, you will then be absolved of your promise to him in regard to me, and will still have charity enough to befriend an unfortunate woman. She wept, and Pivet owned he was ready to do so too; but constraining himself, protested she should command his life; and withdrew full of seeming uneasiness.
He told me what had passed between him and the lady, and I could not help approving his management of the scene, though the rogue had stretched beyond the truth; but stratagems, you know, are allowable in love, and a lover he was now become in good earnest.
He had taken care to alarm Mrs Gerrarde’s apprehensions at every passage of access. He had informed her, that I had a husband for her in my thoughts; and at the same time, that he avoided the most distant hint of its being himself, he engaged her favour by seeming to wish it were. Then he took care to insinuate, at least, a possibility of her being refused by the person designed for her, and this he very naturally supposed would raise his own consequence with her, in case any suspicion should fall on him, of his being the intended husband. He pretended I had taken umbrage at his visiting her, still more to inflame her resentment against me, and increase her impatience to deliver herself out of my hands; at the same time he artfully hinted that he was not the man destined to be happy. This, as he saw already he was not unacceptable to her, he thought would make him doubly welcome, when she should find herself no worse off. Then the nunnery was mentioned, in terrorem, with broad hints of my resolution. In short, Pivet played his part so cunningly, that it had all the effect he could have wished; and Mrs Gerrarde, finding her spirit matched, was obliged to surrender at discretion.
I own I did not expect to have succeeded so soon; and without Pivet, who had now a feeling in the affair, I certainly should not. I resolved directly to make the best use of the advantage I had gained. I told Pivet that he should be married the next day. He was so transported at the thought, that he begged I would give him leave to go to Mrs Gerrarde, to declare his love and his good fortune together; for Sir, said he, you know she promises to accept of whomsoever you propose, and I hope she will not dispise your choice so much as she thinks she shall. Softly, softly, good Monsieur Pivet, your violent hurry will spoil all. I do not mean that you shall see her till to-morrow. Not till to-morrow! Ah Sir! do, I beseech you, Sir, allow me; she will think it very cruel. (Poor Pivet, thought I, thou wilt have enough of her). Simpleton (to him), this day’s suspence will forward your business more than all you could say to her in seven hours: is it not enough you are sure of her? We have other things now to mind. What plan of life do you purpose to pursue? You know I have promised to do handsomely for you.
Sir, said he, I always intended to follow the business I was bred to; and if this piece of extraordinary good fortune had not happened to me, I did purpose, tho’ you have been the best of masters to me, to have asked your permission to return to my friends, in order to settle in my trade, as I have some capital of my own. But to be sure, Sir, I shall be directed in this, as in every thing else, by your will and pleasure. I approve of your design intirely, said I; but there are certain conditions that must be previously settled between you and me. In the first place, tell me honestly, what is the capital you say you are worth.
He answered, his father had left him about eight thousand livres, which were in the hands of a banker in Paris, whom he named to me, and referred me to him for confirmation of the truth of what he told me.
Well, said I, this will go a good way towards setting you up in your own business. Where do you think of settling?
He answered, Paris was the best place for his trade.