"Antonine? What good fortune!" said Sophie, rising immediately, and going to meet the young girl. "Madame," added the servant, mysteriously, "Agatha wants to know if M. Pascal likes his peas with sugar or bacon?" "Charles!" called Sophie, merrily, to her husband, "this is a grave question, what do you think of it?" "Make one dish of peas with sugar, and the other with bacon," replied Charles, thoughtfully. "It takes mathematicians to solve problems," replied Sophie, then, taking her children by the hand, she added: "I want Antonine to see how large and pretty they are." "But I hope you will persuade Mlle. Hubert to come in, or I must go after her." "I am going to take the children to their nurse, and I will return with Antonine." "Charles," said the old man, rising, when the young woman had disappeared, "give me your arm, please." "Certainly, father; but M. Pascal will arrive before long." "And you insist upon my being present, my son?" "You know, father, all the respect that our friend has for you, and how glad he is to show it to you." After a moment's silence, the old man replied: "Do you know that, since you have dismissed your old cashier, Marcelange, he often visits M. Pascal?" "This is the first time I have heard it." "Does it not seem singular to you?" "Yes, indeed." "Listen to me, Charles, I--" "I beg your pardon, father," replied Dutertre, interrupting the old man, "now I think of it, nothing is more natural; I have not seen our friend since I sent Marcelange away; Marcelange knows of our friendship for M. Pascal, and he perhaps has gone to see him, to beg him to intercede with me for him." "It can be so explained," said the old man, thoughtfully. "Yet--" "Well, father?" "Your little girl's impression struck me forcibly." "Come, father," replied Dutertre, smiling, "you say that to compliment my wife. Unfortunately, she is not present to hear you. But I will report your gallantry to her." "I say so, Charles," replied the old man, in a solemn tone, "because, as childish as it may appear, your little girl's impression seems to me to have a certain weight, and when I recall some other circumstances, and think of the frequent interviews between Marcelange and M. Pascal, I confess to you that I feel in spite of myself a vague distrust of your friend." "Oh, father, father," replied Charles Dutertre, with emotion, "of course you do not mean it, but you distress me very much. Doubt our generous benefactor, M. Pascal! Ah, banish your suspicions, father, for this is the first sorrow I have felt in a long time. To suspect without proof, to be influenced by the passing impression of a little child," added Dutertre, with all the warmth of his natural generosity, "that is unjust, indeed!" "Charles!" said the old man, wounded by his son's resentment.