"If you could have seen him squeeze my hand; if you could have heard him sigh when he escorted me to the street! Oh, it was droll!"
"Unfortunately, he is married."
"Yes, but Mathilde has a bad cough. They say that her lungs are affected. She is not yet twenty-five years old; at that age phthisis is fatal. But may God preserve her!"
"You are truly a genius! Your foresight is admirable. If we could keep him in reserve it would not be bad; however, I prefer Jacob. Men of Henri's calibre never become seriously in love. Their sentiment is not love, it is passion. Every year they change their mistress. It is the theatre that furnishes them."
"Bah! That is the custom now-a-days!"
"Believe me, you had better hold Jacob. There is something horrible about counting on a death."
"I will do all I can to satisfy you. I am very sorry for poor Mathilde, yet one can see death in her eyes."
"Do not think of her, then; think rather of Jacob."
"We will see. As for me, I like Henri better."
The mother frowned and said no more.