"I repeat, children should obey without question!"
"I hope to prove to my daughter by reasoning that she is probably wrong," said M. Darbois very quietly.
"Not at all. You must order, not persuade."
"Now, M. Meydieux," exclaimed the young painter, "it seems to me that you are going a little too far. Children should respect their parents' wishes as far as possible; but when it is a question of their own future, they have a right to present their side of the case. If my uncle Darbois's father had had his way, my uncle Darbois would probably now be a mediocre engineer, instead of the brilliant philosopher who is admired and recognized by the entire world."
Gentle little Madame Darbois sat up proudly, and Esperance looked at her father with a world of tenderness in her eyes.
"But, my lad," pursued Adhemar, swelling with conviction, "your uncle might well have made a fortune at machinery, while, as it is, he has just managed to exist."
"We are very happy"—Madame Darbois slipped in her word.
Esperance had bounded out of her chair, and from behind her father encircled his head with her arms. "Oh! yes, very happy," she murmured in a low voice, "and you would not, darling papa, spoil the harmony of our life together?"
"Remember, my dear little Esperance, what I said to your mother concerned only men—now we are considering the future of a young girl, and that is a graver matter!"
"Why?"