“It isn’t the gossip. I feel trouble coming. I am sure of it. He is in some danger.”
“Sometimes combating a love affair only brings it to a head,” Mr. Roquevillard replied. “You know that. You consented to having the Frasnes asked here. Besides, young people don’t tolerate any meddling in their lives, Maurice least of all. He’s very proud. He’s not twenty-four yet, and a doctor of law. He has complete confidence in himself. He has absurd theories on the right to be happy, the necessity of one’s own personal development. Paris sends them back to us more refined, but rebellious. It takes experience to make them really wise.”
“You’ve been worrying about it, too, then?” said his wife. “And you’ve said nothing about it all to me.”
“What was the use in making you worry? You are already so tired.”
“Yes, when I ought to be strong, too. A mother needs strength. But you have enough for us both.”
He went on:
“We were wrong in having him go into Frasnes’s offices. I wanted him to get into the way of a business practice, especially assignments and liquidations, before he made his début at the bar. Frasne is the successor of Mr. Clairval, who was my friend, and our own solicitor. I respected the tradition of the family, and that’s just where I made my mistake. However, everything will be different very soon now.”
“Soon?”
“Yes. I shall be taking Maurice into my office: he can finish his first stage there. Or else he can study proceedings with Marcellaz. When we move back to town I’ll look round and see.”
“Good,” she said, pressing his hand. “There will be less occasion for him to meet her. But that isn’t enough in itself. You find him reasonable. I think him rather a bit romantic. I should prefer to turn his fancy somewhere else.”