“No, it is unbusinesslike, is it not? Console yourself, mother. When you pay anything to Monsieur Bourget, you will have your acknowledgment executed with every formality and the most scrupulous exactitude.”
If he hoped by this counter-irritation to turn her thoughts, he apparently succeeded. The idea of M. Bourget’s tradesmanlike qualities produced its desired effect as a foil to M. de Cadanet’s carelessness. But that she was not absolutely satisfied was evident from her calling after Léon, as he left the room:
“All the same, would it not be well for me to write and ascertain whether the money has reached him safely? The post is not absolutely safe, and it would be extremely annoying to find there had been any failure in delivery.”
Léon came back hurriedly.
“Mother, I must entreat you, leave the matter with me. Do not on any account, now or at a future time, interfere between me and Monsieur de Cadanet. You might do me incalculable harm.”
He spoke with sharp excitement, altogether unlike himself, and Mme. de Beaudrillart stared amazedly. If either of her other children had addressed her in such a tone, the offence would have been grievous; as it was, it was Léon, and Léon, as she immediately reflected, not quite himself, so that she contented herself with saying, stiffly:
“Calm yourself, Léon; you should be well aware that I am not likely to act in a manner to endanger either your interests or your honour with Monsieur de Cadanet or any other person.”
He turned from her, came back, and kissed her impulsively. But what he said had apparently nothing to do with what had passed.
“Poor mother! You are glad that we kept Poissy?”
“If we had lost it, I think it would have killed me.”