"Ah! there you are!" said Julie. "Last evening--for we talk together every evening, dear mother--we agreed to await the final decision as to my fate before revealing our secret to our friends and to you. I saw that I was marching to my destruction. Julien was content. But he would have liked, for my sake, that all the wrong should be on the marchioness's side; and it is quite certain that my resolution, when known and published, will give her numerous partisans in her circle of pious hypocrites and evil-tongued prudes; but for my part I cannot endure the thought of being represented to be a lewd woman, and that would happen if I were afraid to tell the whole truth." "Yes, of course," replied Julien; "now, we must tell it; but you put forward the hour, my dear Julie! For that rash act I adore you more than ever; but it was my duty not to assent to it. Love and destiny carried the day over my prudence; they made my devotion entirely useless. A truce to reflections! Bless your children, dear mother; Julie has said it, Julie wishes it, and I know that you wish it as much as she does." While the occupants of the pavilion were thus pouring out their hearts, the marchioness, installed in the salon of the hôtel, proceeded to make a rigidly exact appraisal of both properties. Marcel fought, the notary made sincere but vain efforts to adjust the respective claims. At last they reached a conclusion intensely disappointing to Marcel--that Julie could not hope to save her furniture from the enemy's clutches. It was a great concession to allow her to retain her diamonds and her laces. She had no choice but to submit to those harsh terms, because otherwise she might get nothing; nobody had appeared to outbid the marchioness. Marcel had written to Uncle Antoine, hoping that he would feel a longing for the garden and would not haggle overmuch, for all his wrath; but Uncle Antoine had held aloof. After a final half hour of discussion concerning the articles, which were already drawn up, divers erasures were made and divers blank spaces filled up. The dowager signed, and as Marcel, still complaining and protesting, started to take the document and submit it to Julie for her ratification, the dowager demanded roughly: "Why isn't she here? The matter is of sufficient importance for her to leave her dear pavilion for a few moments!" "You will admit, madame," rejoined Marcel, "that you are not treating the Comtesse d'Estrelle so generously as to make her feel inclined to come into your presence."