Two or three friends of M. de la Mole were of the same opinion as the abbé Pirard. The great obstacle in their view was Mathilde’s decided character. But in spite of all these fine arguments the marquis’s soul could not reconcile itself to giving up all hopes of a coronet for his daughter.
He ransacked his memory and his imagination for all the variations of knavery and duplicity which had been feasible in his youth. Yielding to necessity and having fear of the law seemed absurd and humiliating for a man in his position. He was paying dearly now for the luxury of those enchanting dreams concerning the future of his cherished daughter in which he had indulged for the last ten years.
“Who could have anticipated it?” he said to himself. “A girl of so proud a character, of so lofty a disposition, who is even prouder than I am of the name she bears? A girl whose hand has already been asked for by all the cream of the nobility of France.”
“We must give up all faith in prudence. This age is made to confound everything. We are marching towards chaos.”
[CHAPTER LXIV]
A MAN OF INTELLECT
The prefect said to himself as he rode along the highway on horseback, “why should I not be a minister, a president of the council, a duke? This is how I should make war.... By these means I should have all the reformers put in irons.”—The Globe.