"What I think," said Marcel, "is that Uncle Antoine will submit to any conditions that the Comtesse d'Estrelle chooses to impose on him; he will pay a high price and he won't turn you out. Leave it to me and I may bring him to something even better."
"To what, pray?"
"That is my secret. You shall know later, if I do not fail."
"Bless my soul!" said Madame Thierry, abruptly changing the subject, "I forgot to bring my snuff-box; go and get it for me, Julien."
Julien went upstairs and his mother took advantage of the opportunity to say hastily to Marcel:
"Be careful, my dear child! a great disaster is hanging over us: Julien is in love with the countess!"
"Nonsense!" cried Marcel in utter stupefaction; "you are dreaming, my dear aunt, it isn't possible!"
"Speak lower. It is possible, it is a fact. Arrange for us to leave these dangerous quarters at once. Find some way without letting him suspect what I say. Save him and save me! Hush! he is coming down again!"
Julien had done the errand in a moment. He was in a hurry to resume the conversation; but he noticed a shade of constraint in his mother's glance, a suggestion of bewilderment and surprise in Marcel's manner. He suspected that he had betrayed himself, and he at once assumed a cheerful and indifferent air, which did not deceive Madame Thierry, but which reassured the solicitor. So Marcel took his leave, saying to himself that he would sound his cousin some day, but fully persuaded that his aunt was losing her wits a little, in the midst of all her excitement.
But Marcel made a much more astonishing discovery, a discovery so truly astonishing that we beg our readers to prepare themselves for it a long while beforehand.