“No, no; not the slightest. She is sure to be betrothed, very much betrothed. I tell you I am glad she is. The Mouillards do not come to Paris for their wives, Fabien—we do not want a Parisienne to carry on the traditions of the family, and the practice. A Parisienne! I shudder at the thought of it. Fabien, you will leave Paris with me to-morrow. That’s understood.”
“Certainly not, uncle.”
“Your reasons?”
“Because I can not leave my friends without saying goodby, and because I have need to reflect before definitely binding myself to the legal profession.”
“To reflect! You want to reflect before taking over a family practice, which has been destined for you since you were an infant, in view of which you have been working for five years, and which I have nursed for you, I, your uncle, as if you had been my son?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Don’t be a fool! You can reflect at Bourges quite as well as here. Your object in staying here is to see her again.”
“It is not.”
“To wander like a troubled spirit up and down her street. By the way, which is her street?”
“Rue de l’Universite.”