"Why, yes; what's the matter?"
"To marry! How could I have imagined such a thing? Here were matters of
the utmost importance going on, and I knew nothing about them. Marry!
You might be announcing your betrothal to me at this moment if you'd-
Still you are quite sure she is betrothed?"
"Larive told me so."
"Who's Larive?"
"A friend of mine."
"Oh, so you have only heard it through a friend?"
"Yes, uncle. Do you really think there may still be hope, that I still have a chance?"
"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?"