“That’s not true. She had a dot of one hundred thousand francs.”
“Who told you so?”
“She did, herself.”
“I hope so. However, my informant is my old friend Clairval, who introduced the Frasnes to us when his successor was installed here, and he does not speak lightly. Between her dread of poverty, or at least of coming down a long way in the world, and of her husband, whose grim face is not very reassuring, I’ll admit, if she still prefers her husband, that’s as much sense as could be expected of her.”
Quite trembling with this contemptuous treatment of his idol, Maurice took a step forward.
“Enough, father, I beg of you. Don’t accuse her of any baseness. Don’t challenge her courage. I can assure you that you would be wrong. I don’t want to hear her defamed any more, and so I’m going.”
“I forbid you to set foot again in Frasne’s offices.”
“Take care that I don’t refuse ever to set foot in yours.”
This last threat was launched by Maurice from the threshold.
“Maurice!” called Mr. Roquevillard in a changed voice, with a tone more of appeal than of command.