"Go and see my father," said Rose, leaving a verse half sung. "I'll come and find you there later." And she went on with her music. "More and more conjugal, for I shall obey her after having, of course, gone over: I kissed her in the neck. Dear child, she's waiting for the surprise, shivering at it already...." Everything went off as M. Hervart had predicted, but there was something more. Rose turned round and said, after offering her lips: "Go along, my darling, and mind you admire his painting a lot, more than yesterday." "Yes, my love." "How charming it all is!" he said to himself as he knocked at the studio door. "Delightful family conspiracies. Shall I be able to play this part for long? Suppose I announce my intentions to my venerable friend. Obviously there can be no more hesitation. Come on!" They talked of Ste. Clotilde. M. Hervart was loud in his praise both of the historical knowledge as well as the pictorial skill of the master of Robinvast, and at every word he uttered he felt a longing to make the conversation touch on the conjugal virtues of that honourable queen. Then the desire passed. Dinner time came. Afterwards, as usual, they played a game of whist. M. Hervart retired to bed with pleasure and, wearied by his kisses and his thoughts, went to sleep full of the contentment that comes from a pleasant fatigue. "I shall have to warn Rose," he said to himself as soon as he woke, rather late, next morning, "of her mother's schemes. They might make her fall into some trap." He soon found an opportunity. In the morning their kisses were more reserved, still somnolent. They frittered away the time pleasantly. M. Hervart would sometimes make a serious examination of some rare insect: Rose worked at her embroidery with conviction. They did not venture into the wood, because of the dew, but remained in the neighbourhood of the house. At this hour of the day M. Hervart was always particularly lucid. He discoursed on a hundred different topics and Rose listened, without daring to interrupt, even when she did not understand. She enjoyed the sound of his voice much more than the sense of his words. Rose was not surprised to learn of her mothers schemes. She confessed, furthermore, that she had divined in M. Varin's attitude the existence of quite definite intentions. It was therefore decided that M. Hervart should make his request that very day in order to forestall circumstances. Rose spoke so resolutely and her words were so lyrical that M. Hervart felt all his absurd hesitations melt away within him. She knew her parents' income and gave the figure, very straightforwardly, like the practical woman she was. M. Des Boys had an income of sixty thousand francs of which, she imagined, he hardly spent half. There was no doubt that he would willingly give the greater part of the other half to his only daughter. As she had also calculated, though with less certainty, the value of M. Hervart's fortune, she included decisively: