There were still some visitors in the salon. She made a secret sign to her daughter, and a few moments afterward Muse complained of a headache. Her admirers regretfully took their hats and left the house. The particulars of the interview were soon learned, and her delight was equal to that of her mother.
Nevertheless, before going to meet Samuel, she assumed a calm and dignified mien.
"Your mother has no doubt spoken of my proposition. Let us discuss, then, without restraint," said Mathilde's father.
"But, monsieur, the subject is so delicate, so embarrassing, so painful."
"Painful, mademoiselle, in what way? Not for you; nor for me, I think. Delicate. Yes! Let us treat it with delicacy."
"I like Mathilde so much," said Muse.
"Then you will give her a real proof of your friendship by delivering her of a husband who does not suit her, who will suit you, and who loves you."
Muse tried to appear very much embarrassed.
"Dear mademoiselle," said Samuel, "we can dispense with acting; you can gain nothing by it. I ask of you entire frankness. If you wish to succeed, you must act. Make Henri believe that Sofronof is a dangerous rival. I will tell everywhere that the colonel wishes to marry you at any price. Henri will be in despair; then push him to the end of the wall; exact a divorce, and advise him to take Mann for an intermediary between him and me."
"That is admirably planned," cried Madame Wtorkowska.