"So—now you are sorry that you wounded me?"
"I am sorry for it; but, if I ask your pardon, will you grant it?"
"Ah! the deuce! it's not the same thing now, my fine lady! You need me now!"
"Yes, Monsieur Antoine, I do need you. My son is mad with grief; marry him to the woman he loves."
"Ah! there we are!" cried Monsieur Antoine, flying into a rage again.
"We have been there all the time," replied Madame Thierry; "I have asked you for nothing since you have been here except liberty of action for Madame d'Estrelle."
"Yes, with plenty of money for everybody?"
"No, no money, nothing! the sacrifice is made. Let us remain here as tenants, we will gladly pay for the privilege. And, if you are not willing—why, your will shall be done; but turn us away without hatred and forgive us for being happy, for we shall be, even in poverty, if our hearts are content with one another, if we can say to one another that our happiness is no longer a source of affliction to you."
Monsieur Antoine felt that he was beaten; he was ashamed of it and clung to the last straw.
"That is your pride," he said; "it's always the same thing however you change it! The rich man's money is the object of your scorn! You snap your fingers at it!—'Take it all back, we want nothing, we haven't any needs! we live on air! What is this money? No better than pebbles to sensible minds!' And yet, my fine lady, money honestly earned by a man who had nothing on his side but his natural genius, ought to count for something! It's the working-bee's honey, it's the tropical flower which is made to bloom in an artificial climate by the patience and skill of a master gardener. Ah! that is nothing, you think? With all his wit, my poor brother only succeeded in using up the money he earned by working like a hod-carrier. But I know how to make a different use of money; I save it, I add to it every day, and I make people happy when I choose!"