"Not at all, uncle! Julien has been seriously ill of late, he is still, and his mother said to me: 'Do whatever you choose. Let us return everything to Monsieur Antoine, and let Julie be restored to us!' So there you are, uncle. You don't lose an obolus, you recover principal and interest, and you leave us at liberty to live as we please, with no risk of losing our liberty by reason of any stipulation imposed by law or by private agreement." "Why, you miserable villain, how you recant! I took you for a sensible man, you agreed with me entirely, you disapproved of their marriage, you worked with me to provide for their happiness----" "True, until the day when I saw that happiness was taking them straight to the tomb." "They are mad!" "Yes, uncle, they are mad; love is a form of madness; but when it is incurable we must yield to it, and I yield." "Very good!" retorted Monsieur Antoine, flattening his hat over his eyes with a vicious blow. "Go and tell that lady to get out of her house, that is to say my house, instantly. I will go to Sèvres and pack off the others. If the whole lot of them are not on the street in two hours, I'll send bailiffs, police agents--I'll set the houses on fire, I'll----" His frantic threats became inaudible as he rushed madly away. He left Marcel in the street and returned home, unconsciously parodying Orestes pursued by the Furies. Marcel, undismayed, quietly followed him, and disregarded the orders already given to admit no one; he was determined to come to blows with the servants if necessary. "You mean to go to Sèvres, do you?" he said. "I will go with you." "That's as you choose," said Uncle Antoine, with lowering brow. "Have you notified Madame Julie to clear out of my house?" "Yes, that is done," replied Marcel, for he saw that the old man had lost his head completely, and that he did not know how few were the minutes passed since their altercation in the street. "Is she packing up? Is she taking away----" "She takes nothing," said Marcel; "she leaves everything for you. Are we going to Sèvres? Have you ordered the cab?" "My chaise and farm horse will go faster. They are being harnessed." He sat down on the edge of a table and seemed absorbed by his reflections. Marcel sat down opposite him, determined not to lose sight of him, at times fearing for his reason, at times dreading some diabolical suggestion of his wrath. When they entered the carriage, it was seven o'clock at night; Marcel broke the silence. "What are we going to do at Sèvres?" he inquired. "You will see!" Monsieur Antoine replied. After about fifteen minutes Marcel spoke again. "There is no need of your going there," he said. "The documents are in my office; it is simply a matter of tearing them up, and I will not allow you to make an absurd scene at my aunt's, I warn you. She is exceedingly anxious, for Julien is very ill, as I told you." "And you lied like a dog!" retorted Monsieur Antoine.