“I have seen the father quite often, the children never, the son is an officer in a garrison somewhere or other.”
“At Tours,” said she quickly. Then she added, still more hastily:
“At least I think so.”
“They say he is a very fine fellow!”
“I am told so, but I have not seen him since he has grown up.”
This answer reassured me. For an instant it had occurred to me that the disinterested magnanimous motives of Madame d’Ionis might be attributable to a passion that she entertained for her cousin d’Aillane.
“His sister is charming,” said she; “Have you never seen her?”
“Never, isn’t she still in the convent?”
“Yes, at Angers, they say she is an angel. Will you not be proud when you have succeeded in plunging a daughter of a good house into misery? One who counted rightfully, upon an honorable marriage and a life agreeable to her rank and education? This is what troubles her poor father more than anything else. But come, tell me your expedients, for you have sought and found some, have you not?”
“Yes,” I replied, after having reflected as well as one can reflect in a fever. “I have found a solution.”