"I have; it is a bad subject, it must be got through. I have learnt from the lips of John Mansfield, Madame, and also from the lips of a very nasty girl who goes to the school of a certain princess, that our little Margot assists you in a shop. It is kept by a certain Madame Marcelle. But it is in reality your shop. Her grandfather does not know, neither her French grandfather nor her Irish grandfather. Such news would kill either of them. Madame, it must cease. The child goes to her grandfather, she does not go to you. You must assure me now and here on your word as an honourable woman that you will never allow the little Margot to enter the shop of Madame Marcelle, which is in reality your shop, any more."
"But listen! Understand, monsieur. May not la petite enter the apartment where the chapeaux are sold, may not la pauvre chérie buy a chapeau for herself? Ah, but non, non, you can not say against it, monsieur. La chère petite must be dressed according to the wishes of her grandfather and me, and, behold! I am making her dot and it will be solid—oh a pile, a pile; francs by the thousand, by the tens of thousands, by the hundreds of thousands! Your little niece will be très riche, monsieur, but she must be dressed, ah, oui, in the proper way, monsieur. She wears not now the correct garments for la petite Comtesse St. Juste, but I was ready for that, and I have a fresh set of little garments all waiting for her in her chambre de nuit. You will agree with me, monsieur, n'est-ce pas?"
"I do not mind what clothes you buy for the child," said Fergus, "if you promise that she does not sell things herself in the shop."
"Ah, but you are cruel, and she likes it. One little hour per day, monsieur. She has the manners, ah, of the grande noblesse, and behold, the people flock to her and she is making her own little dot, by her own clever speeches, and her own wonderful taste. Permit it, monsieur, I entreat!"
"I refuse to permit it," said Fergus. "It must not be. I would rather she had no dot and was a lady."
Tears filled the eyes of little Madame.
"Ah, but indeed, she is a lady the most perfect," was her remark. "Think, monsieur, consider what I have suffered. I married mon Alphonse because of the love, oh, so mighty, and because I did so pity him. He was so beautiful, so desolate, so poor. He was nearly on the brink of starving, monsieur. Then I come along and I make the wicked lie. He thinks that I have given up the établissement, I make out to him that it is so, but I could not give it up, monsieur, and give him the comforts that he needs, the frail, frail old man. Then there came as a ray of sunshine to his heart la petite Comtesse, the only child of his only son, and behold he revived! And I took la petite Comtesse into my établissement and behold! She had the taste superb. The chapeaux they went like the wind, the fans like the whirlwinds, the robes they vanished as you looked, and all because of la petite Margot and her immaculate taste. She is well taught, monsieur, also. She has masters for French and dancing and the piano and singing. Only a little of the singing, she is too young at present. She spends but two hours a day in the établissement, and behold it flourishes as it never did before, and neither of the grandpères know. Where is the harm, Monsieur Desmond? Why conceal a talent so great? Madame Marcelle cannot attempt to dispose of my goods as la petite Comtesse does. You see the thing is honourable, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur Desmond?"
"I do not. I forbid it," said Fergus. "We care not for fine clothes in Ireland and a little money goes a long way. What we want is to keep up our great, great nobility. You understand, Madame, have I your word that it shall cease?"
"Ah, oui, oui, if it must be, it must," said Madame. She spoke in a gay, light sort of voice and picked a luscious pear, which she presented to Monsieur Desmond as a token of her unfailing esteem.