“Well, then, mademoiselle, I have everything to fear! This young man has lost his property.... He passes himself off here as a creditable person.... He has secret designs ...”
“What designs?”
“Mademoiselle puts me in an awkward position.... It is such a delicate point to speak to mademoiselle about.”
“That M. Beauvais aspires to my hand through interested motives?”
“I should not have dared say so.”
“Well, that would be audacious! I accept a man for a husband whom poverty, disgraceful poverty, alone inclines towards me!”
“Without doubt, he has committed many faults, but there is mercy for the greatest sinner, and he is so pious just now!”
“I know—he goes to church often, even during the week. That is his own affair. That is enough, Fanny. Let there be no further question of this between us. You take too much interest in what concerns me, as I have told you before. I am astonished you should force me to repeat it.”
Fanny, thus dismissed, went away furious and more uneasy than ever. But if she could have read Eugénie’s inmost thoughts, her fury would have turned to joy. As soon as she was gone, Eugénie seated herself in a low arm-chair, and began, as she sometimes laughingly said, to put her thoughts in order.
“That malicious girl is no fool,” she said to herself. “This young man may have entered my father’s service from secret motives, perhaps suggested by his family. Who knows but my parents themselves smile on his projects? My father seems to be on the best of terms with his father. Perhaps they have come to an understanding with a mere word, or even without speaking at all. That would be too much! Well, if it is so, if the whole world conspires against me, I will defeat their calculations.... In the first place, I do not fancy this M. Louis, and I will soon let him see it, as well as those who favor him. The mere supposition that I could ever be his wife makes me indignant and angry. I marry a man who has ruined himself, who only aimed at my fortune, and would squander it in a few years! I give my heart to a man who does not love me, and, even if he sincerely vowed he loved me, would be in such a position that I should always have reason to doubt it! And, besides, what a weak mind this hare-brained fellow must have to play so many rôles one after the other! I wish my husband to have purer motives and a stronger head. This man must have a false heart. He is an intriguer, and that includes everything....”