"Good faith is safe enough," retorted Marcel. "We were subjected to harsh conditions. No one ever blamed a man condemned to death, however resigned he might be, for accepting a pardon when it came to him as a surprise. Come, monsieur my uncle, speak! You want the hôtel D'Estrelle. I say more, you need it; you can pull down the wall and make a fine addition to your garden. The hôtel De Melcy is old and dismal and depressing and badly located. This one is cheerful, cool in summer, warm in winter. You want it, you claim it, do you not?" "This is an outrageous proceeding!" cried the marchioness. "Madame's consent is equivalent to a signature, and an agreement is never retracted at the last moment." "I beg your pardon, madame," rejoined Marcel, "you were warned. I resisted to the very last minute, and I said to you three times during the discussion: if the door should open at this moment, and a new bidder appear, I don't care who he might be, I would tear up this draft of an agreement which I consider most lamentable for my client. I submitted, I did not consent; I invoke the testimony of my colleague here present. Uncle, everyone knows that you are infallible on questions of honor; tell me, have I the right to object to my client's signing before you have spoken?" "To be sure," replied Monsieur Antoine, "especially as my rights antedate madame la marquise's. Let us look over this paper!" He ran his eye over it and said: "That is not my appraisal, madame la marquise; you pluck your victim too close, and you compel me to remind you of our little agreements." "Go on, monsieur, overbid me!" replied the dowager. "I am unable to contend against you who have millions. I throw the whole thing over and give up my place to you." "Wait, wait!" replied Antoine, "we can still agree with a word, madame! I can act here in a way to satisfy everybody. It depends on you!" "Never!" cried the marchioness indignantly; "you are a lunatic and I am ashamed to have accepted your services!" She went out, forgetting her notary, and Antoine stood abashed, with contracted brows, buried in mysterious meditation, and with eyes fixed on the door. "They had agreed to act against me," Julie whispered to Marcel; "now what are they going to do?" "Be patient," Marcel replied; "I think that I can guess." He had no time to explain himself. Monsieur Antoine emerged from his reverie and said, addressing the notary: "Well, how far have we gone, and what is our decision?" "For my own part, monsieur," replied the notary, putting his papers together and looking for his spectacles, "what took place between the marchioness and yourself is a mystery. My client apparently abandoned the object she was pursuing, and I shall await further orders from her before taking part in this affair." "It is between us two then?" said Monsieur Antoine to Julie, while the notary made his exit. "No, monsieur," she replied, pointing to Marcel; "I ask your permission to leave you together."