Paul fully expected Madame Bernard to box his ears and call a footman to throw him out of the house, but Madame Bernard did nothing of the sort. She sighed a little and looked at Paul. She would have liked a duke, at least, for Lucie—she had got a count for Sophie, but how wretchedly had that match turned out. The habit of obedience was strong upon Madame Bernard, and Lucie was of a nature so willing to take responsibility for herself that it was always difficult to take responsibility for her. Madame Bernard knew she was helpless, but, as Paul had done, she made a feint of resistance.
“Of course, Monsieur,” she said in a voice and manner which she vainly tried to make commanding, “in the event this marriage comes off I shall expect you to resign from the army.”
Paul turned pale. This thought had never occurred to him before. Resign from the army! And become gentleman usher to a rich wife! Never!
“Madame,” he said, “I have little to offer Mademoiselle Lucie, and the best thing, in a worldly point of view, is the career that I hope to make in my profession. That, I may say, if you will permit me, will not be unworthy of Mademoiselle Lucie’s acceptance, I trust.”
“Good for you, Paul,” cried Lucie, “what you say is quite right, and, grandmama, you might as well make up your mind to it. When Paul and I are married I shall have to live in all sorts of dull little towns and poky little holes and perhaps go to Algiers. I shall have to do just what any other sublieutenant’s wife has to do, and I shall like it above all things. It will be like a masquerade, for we shall know when Paul is a lieutenant-colonel, then we can live handsomely and enjoy our money.”
Lucie’s quick and comprehensive mind had already gone forward and spanned the gulf between a sublieutenant and a lieutenant-colonel. Madame Bernard sighed again. All womanly women are natural romancers and love a lover, and she did not think less of Paul for his determined stand. She began to see dimly that this prompt and quiet decision in Paul’s character was one of the reasons why Lucie loved him, and it would be the most wholesome corrective possible to the faults in Lucie’s temperament.
“As to the question of my consent, Monsieur,” said Madame Bernard grimly, “that seems to have been settled in advance by Lucie and yourself.”
Lucie chased away the grimness from the old lady’s face by kissing her.
“Suppose we postpone consideration of this for a short time—a week, perhaps, you will allow me.”