“Undoubtedly,” replied Thuillier; “but it is very repugnant to me to let Celeste decide without appeal.”
“For my part, I will take that risk; in any case, I shall be rid of uncertainty; and that is really my first object. Between ourselves, I am not risking as much as you think. It will take more than fifteen days for a son of Phellion, in other words, obstinacy incarnate in silliness, to have done with philosophical hesitations; and it is very certain that Celeste will not accept him for a husband unless he gives her some proofs of conversion.”
“That’s probable. But suppose Celeste tries to dawdle; suppose she refuses to accept the alternative?”
“That’s your affair,” said the Provencal. “I don’t know how you regard the family in Paris; I only know that in my part of the country it is an unheard-of thing that a girl should have such liberty. If you, your sister (supposing she plays fair in the matter), and the father and mother can’t succeed in making a girl whom you dower agree to so simple a thing as to make a perfectly free choice between two suitors, then good-bye to you! You’ll have to write upon your gate-post that Celeste is queen and sovereign of the house.”
“Well, we haven’t got to that point yet,” said Thuillier, with a capable air.
“As for you, my old fellow,” resumed la Peyrade, “I must postpone our business until after Celeste’s decision. Be that in my favor or not, I will then go to work, and in three days the pamphlet can be finished.”
“Now,” said Thuillier, “I know what you have had on your mind. I’ll talk about it with Brigitte.”
“That’s a sad conclusion,” said la Peyrade; “but, unhappily, so it is.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I would rather, as you can easily imagine, hear you say of yourself that the thing shall be done; but old habits can’t be broken up.”