“He would not leave him there a day,” said old Minoret, rising.
He held out his hand to take that of the old lady, which she allowed him to do; then he kissed it respectfully, bowed profoundly, and left the room; but returned immediately to say:—
“My dear abbe, may I ask you to engage a place in the diligence for me to-morrow?”
The abbe stayed behind for half an hour to sing the praises of his friend, who meant to win and had succeeded in winning the good graces of the old lady.
“He is an astonishing man for his age,” she said. “He talks of going to Paris and attending to my son’s affairs as if he were only twenty-five. He has certainly seen good society.”
“The very best, madame; and to-day more than one son of a peer of France would be glad to marry his goddaughter with a million. Ah! if that idea should come into Savinien’s head!—times are so changed that the objections would not come from your side, especially after his late conduct—”
The amazement into which the speech threw the old lady alone enabled him to finish it.
“You have lost your senses,” she said at last.
“Think it over, madame; God grant that your son may conduct himself in future in a manner to win that old man’s respect.”
“If it were not you, Monsieur l’abbe,” said Madame de Portenduere, “if it were any one else who spoke to me in that way—”