"No, no!" she repeated; "he will not deceive me."
Sans-Cravate disengaged himself from her arms, drew the back of his hand across his eyes, and cried:
"Well! this is no time to cry like two children; that won't help us. I must act; I must decide what to do. But I have made up my mind."
"What are you going to do, brother?"
"I am going straight to Monsieur Albert's father, because, you see, that's all there is to do. The son might say: 'I ain't my own master, I don't dare, I must wait.'—But that ain't the kind of answer I want. With the father we shall know what to expect, at all events. Besides, they say that Monsieur Vermoncey's an honorable man; in that case, he will understand my grief and be touched by your position; he won't be willing that honest poor folk should be dishonored by his son; he won't despise us because we haven't got any money, and because I'm only a messenger. I'll say to him: 'Monsieur, we didn't go after your son, to try to catch him; it was him that wanted my sister, and he ran off with her and promised to marry her; and if he don't marry her, jarni! it will be bad for him, for I ain't the man to put up with such an insult.' But Monsieur Vermoncey will understand me, and he loves his son; he's a fine man, and he will consent—yes, I feel hopeful now, for it seems to me that I have words in my heart that can't fail to move him. Come, Liline, don't cry any more; cheer up; you shall marry Monsieur Albert."
"Oh! yes, brother, yes! I'm very happy that you agree with me now."
And the artless child, with whom laughter soon succeeded tears, threw her arms gayly about his neck.
"You must stay here, Liline, and wait for me; you won't leave this house?"
"No, brother."
"When is Monsieur Albert to return?"