The old maid’s eyes were lowered. There was a moment of cruel silence for du Bousquier, and then Mademoiselle Cormon decided on her course. She raised her eyelids; tears flowed from her eyes, and she gave du Bousquier a tender glance. “If that is so, monsieur,” she said, in a trembling voice, “promise me to live in a Christian manner, and not oppose my religious customs, but to leave me the right to select my confessors, and I will grant you my hand”; as she said the words, she held it out to him. Du Bousquier seized the good fat hand so full of money, and kissed it solemnly. “But,” she said, allowing him to kiss it, “one thing more I must require of you.” “If it is a possible thing, it is granted,” replied the purveyor. “Alas!” returned the old maid. “For my sake, I must ask you to take upon yourself a sin which I feel to be enormous,--for to lie is one of the capital sins. But you will confess it, will you not? We will do penance for it together” [they looked at each other tenderly]. “Besides, it may be one of those lies which the Church permits as necessary--” “Can she be as Suzanne says she is?” thought du Bousquier. “What luck! Well, mademoiselle, what is it?” he said aloud. “That you will take upon yourself to--” “What?” “To say that this marriage has been agreed upon between us for the last six months.” “Charming woman,” said the purveyor, in the tone of a man willing to devote himself, “such sacrifices can be made only for a creature adored these ten years.” “In spite of my harshness?” she said. “Yes, in spite of your harshness.” “Monsieur du Bousquier, I have misjudged you.” Again she held out the fat red hand, which du Bousquier kissed again. At this moment the door opened; the betrothed pair, looking round to see who entered, beheld the delightful, but tardy Chevalier de Valois. “Ah!” he said, on entering, “I see you are about to be up, fair queen.” She smiled at the chevalier, feeling a weight upon her heart. Monsieur de Valois, remarkably young and seductive, had the air of a Lauzun re-entering the apartments of the Grande Mademoiselle in the Palais-Royal. “Hey! dear du Bousquier,” said he, in a jaunty tone, so sure was he of success, “Monsieur de Troisville and the Abbe de Sponde are examining your house like appraisers.”