"You are right, my friend, and I must give way. Yes, I consent to my son's marrying your sister."
"Can it be possible?" cried Sans-Cravate, jumping for joy; "you consent—you are willing? I am not deceiving myself?"
"Yes, my friend, I consent; you have my word; but you must leave your present business; I will find you some more suitable employment."
"Oh! whatever you choose, monsieur; mon Dieu! I'll go back to the old home, I'll take care of the barnyard, I'll never go out of the house, if you say so."
"Never fear, my friend; I will arrange matters so that we shall all be satisfied. Go and get your sister, and bring her back with you; I will receive her as my daughter, and I desire that the marriage ceremony be performed at the earliest possible moment."
"Oh! this is too much good fortune! I knew that you were a good man. I will love you as I do my own father; and my poor sister, my Liline, how happy she will be! Why, it's enough to make one crazy with joy!"
And Sans-Cravate danced about the room, overturning furniture, laughing and singing. Monsieur Vermoncey was obliged to quiet him, and to remind him that his sister was expecting him.
"Oh, yes! you are right," was the reply; "my sister's waiting for me, and I don't hurry and tell her! What a fool I am! And that poor Monsieur Albert, who is with her, no doubt! I'll go right away and tell them how kind you are; and I'll bring them back to your arms. Oh! it won't take me long, I promise you."
A minute later, Sans-Cravate was in the street, and he ran without stopping to the house where he had left his sister. He was drenched with perspiration when he arrived. He entered the house and was already on the stairs, when the concierge called him.
"Well, comrade, where are you going so fast?"