He was about to rush out of the room when he felt himself clutched by a hand of iron, and his astonished master spun him round in front of him once more. “What has Augustine to do with this matter?” he asked, in a voice which instantly froze the luckless Joseph. “Is it not she that--that--I love?” stammered the assistant. Much put out by his own want of perspicacity, Guillaume sat down again, and rested his long head in his hands to consider the perplexing situation in which he found himself. Joseph Lebas, shamefaced and in despair, remained standing. “Joseph,” the draper said with frigid dignity, “I was speaking of Virginie. Love cannot be made to order, I know. I know, too, that you can be trusted. We will forget all this. I will not let Augustine marry before Virginie.--Your interest will be ten per cent.” The young man, to whom love gave I know not what power of courage and eloquence, clasped his hand, and spoke in his turn--spoke for a quarter of an hour, with so much warmth and feeling, that he altered the situation. If the question had been a matter of business the old tradesman would have had fixed principles to guide his decision; but, tossed a thousand miles from commerce, on the ocean of sentiment, without a compass, he floated, as he told himself, undecided in the face of such an unexpected event. Carried away by his fatherly kindness, he began to beat about the bush. “Deuce take it, Joseph, you must know that there are ten years between my two children. Mademoiselle Chevrel was no beauty, still she has had nothing to complain of in me. Do as I did. Come, come, don’t cry. Can you be so silly? What is to be done? It can be managed perhaps. There is always some way out of a scrape. And we men are not always devoted Celadons to our wives--you understand? Madame Guillaume is very pious. ... Come. By Gad, boy, give your arm to Augustine this morning as we go to Mass.” These were the phrases spoken at random by the old draper, and their conclusion made the lover happy. He was already thinking of a friend of his as a match for Mademoiselle Virginie, as he went out of the smoky office, pressing his future father-in-law’s hand, after saying with a knowing look that all would turn out for the best. “What will Madame Guillaume say to it?” was the idea that greatly troubled the worthy merchant when he found himself alone.