“I am going,” cried Dinah, starting wildly to her feet and turning to the door.
“You will stay here, my Didine. All is at an end. And is this fortune so lightly earned after all? Must I not marry a gawky, tow-haired creature, with a red nose, the daughter of a notary, and saddle myself with a stepmother who could give Madame de Piedefer points on the score of bigotry—”
Pamela flew in, and whispered in Lousteau’s ear:
“Madame Schontz!”
Lousteau rose, leaving Dinah on the sofa, and went out.
“It is all over with you, my dear,” said the woman. “Cardot does not mean to quarrel with his wife for the sake of a son-in-law. The lady made a scene—something like a scene, I can tell you! So, to conclude, the head-clerk, who was the late head-clerk’s deputy for two years, agrees to take the girl with the business.”
“Mean wretch!” exclaimed Lousteau. “What! in two hours he has made up his mind?”
“Bless me, that is simple enough. The rascal, who knew all the dead man’s little secrets, guessed what a fix his master was in from overhearing a few words of the squabble with Madame Cardot. The notary relies on your honor and good feeling, for the affair is settled. The clerk, whose conduct has been admirable, went so far as to attend mass! A finished hypocrite, I say—just suits the mamma. You and Cardot will still be friends. He is to be a director in an immense financial concern, and he may be of use to you.—So you have been waked from a sweet dream.”
“I have lost a fortune, a wife, and—”
“And a mistress,” said Madame Schontz, smiling. “Here you are, more than married; you will be insufferable, you will be always wanting to get home, there will be nothing loose about you, neither your clothes nor your habits. And, after all, my Arthur does things in style. I will be faithful to him and cut Malaga’s acquaintance.