"Do I need to remind you, monsieur, that your treatment of my sister Suzanne was exactly the same as this gentleman's treatment of Aimée? You seduced a poor girl who was innocence itself--you cannot deny it; then, after making her the mother of a daughter, you abandoned her, and, to avoid seeing her tears and hearing her complaints, you went away, you left Paris. My sisters returned to the province, in utter despair. They threw themselves at our parents' feet, with the children they were nursing; and, instead of cursing them, my parents wept with them and tried to comfort them; for with us, people don't curse their children when they are unfortunate. Isn't it more natural to forgive them? But I, seeing my sisters weep every day over their children's cradles, said to myself: 'I will go to Paris, too, but I will go to avenge them!'--I was twenty years old, I was well and strong, and I was especially noted for a resolute will. My parents tried in vain to oppose my determination. I started for Paris. Unfortunately, Aimée did not know Monsieur de Mardeille's address, and Suzanne did not know whether Monsieur de Sommerston had returned to Paris. But nothing could deter me.--'I shall succeed in finding them,' I said to myself; 'and something leads me to hope that my enterprise will be successful.'--I flattered myself that I should be able to make your acquaintance, messieurs. You know whether I succeeded.--Now, Monsieur de Mardeille, is it necessary for me to tell you that the twelve thousand francs I asked of you was for your son, that it has been invested in his name, and will be used to bring him up?--And you, monsieur le vicomte, whom I asked for twenty thousand francs, because I knew that you were a richer man, and because a girl's education costs more than a boy's--you know now that that sum will be used to bring up Suzanne's daughter, and to provide her with a dowry.--Well, messieurs, do you consider now that my conduct was so blamable? That money, with which you intended to seduce and ruin me, as you ruined my sisters, I have put to a good use. It will make it possible to bring up your children carefully; and what you would have employed in an evil action will accomplish a result that will do you honor. Tell me, messieurs, do you bear me a grudge now?" "Faith! no," cried the viscount; "the play was well acted! You performed your part perfectly! Accept my congratulations, madame, together with this petticoat, which I hasten to restore to you.--Here, Tom! hand that garment to madame." Monsieur de Mardeille did not seem to have accepted the inevitable so gracefully as the viscount; however, he realized that he must resign himself, and at least pretend to repent of his wrongdoing. Consequently, he said to Georgette: