“What! it concerns Agathe, monsieur? Oh! speak! pray, speak!”
Paul thereupon told the two young men what he had told Honorine the night before. The reader may imagine the surprise and joy of Edmond when he learned that the girl whom he loved would be recognized at last by her father’s family.
But suddenly his face clouded.
“Agathe is wealthy now,” he said, “and I am no longer a suitable match for her!”
“Now you’re beginning to talk nonsense!” exclaimed Freluchon. “When you determined to marry her, she had nothing, neither money nor a name; so she will know well enough now that it isn’t her money you marry her for.—But, look you, the story monsieur has just told us proves this: that when women set about being wicked, they are ten times wickeder than men, because they put a refinement in it of which we are not capable. In my opinion, Madame Sainte-Suzanne has played her rôle very prettily in all this business.”
“But Agathe must have learned all before this, from Madame Dalmont.”
“I think so,” said Paul, “but I have not yet dared to face her.—You must go with me, Monsieur Edmond; your presence will dispose her to indulgence, to forgiveness.”
“Oh! don’t be afraid, monsieur; there cannot be any resentment in her heart. Besides, you have told us that she saw you weep over her father’s grave, and it must be that she still remembers that.”
Twelve o’clock had struck, and no one had appeared on behalf of Monsieur Luminot. One hour, two hours more passed. Edmond was beside himself with impatience, for that business kept him from going to Agathe. Paul Duronceray was no less impatient than he.
At last, Messieurs Chamoureau and Remplumé appeared and announced themselves as Monsieur Luminot’s seconds.