To this she did not answer, perhaps aware that her husband had said a little more than he meant. She only remarked:
“Will you ask your mother?”
“Certainly, or—why not you?”
“I think you might explain rather more fully—what I have just said,” she added, with difficulty. “Unless it is to be what he would like, I would rather he did not come—rather, even, that he thought me ungrateful.”
“Oh, you will see! My mother has a good heart; all will go well,” said Léon, confidently. He took an opportunity of saying to Mme. de Beaudrillart, “Mother, don’t you think that Monsieur Bourget should be asked here one day?”
“Certainly, Léon, if you desire it. It is what I expected.”
“Nathalie had a sort of notion that you might not like it, and that it would not be very agreeable for him?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“The reverse, I imagine! But what would you have me do? I cannot transform Poissy into Monsieur Bourget’s back parlour, or provide him with the sort of companions with whom he would feel at ease.”
“All that I ask,” said Léon, a little hotly, “is that he should be treated here as my wife’s father.”