"On my word!" she said, "I will tell you the whole truth."
"The whole truth about—my father?" he asked in a strangled voice.
"Your father," she said, looking full into her master's eye, "was a worthy man—he liked a joke—What of that?—there was nothing in it. But, poor dear man, it wasn't the will that was wanting. The truth is, he had some spite against you, I don't know what, and he meant—oh! he meant you harm. Sometimes he made me laugh; but there! what of that?"
"Well, Flore," said the heir, taking her hand, "as my father was nothing to you—"
"What did you suppose he was to me?" she cried, as if offended by some unworthy suspicion.
"Well, but just listen—"
"He was my benefactor, that was all. Ah! he would have liked to make me his wife, but—"
"But," said Rouget, taking the hand which Flore had snatched away from him, "if he was nothing to you you can stay here with me, can't you?"