"You have quite made up your mind?"
"Perfectly."
"Am I to understand that you never mean to leave them?"
"I swore I would not to my brother before he died."
Then there was a silence, and my heart beat very quick.
"Listen, Pierre," said the old woman; "don't think that I wish to deprive the widow or the orphans of one morsel of the sustenance you intend to set aside for them. Even if I did, your good heart would hardly listen to me. But you must understand that I know Alphonsine. [{116}] My daughter can never live with Alphonsine; and Alphonsine can never live with me. Never!"
This last word seemed to open an abyss before my very feet. I too knew Alphonsine. I too began now to understand that either of these arrangements would be perfectly impracticable.
"Mother," I began—
"I don't wish to hinder jour marriage," replied the old lady, very slowly; "I simply impose one condition. You must be quite aware that in this matter my will must be law."
Still I hesitated.