"You come to give me something, and I came to ask you something." "What happiness! Ask, ask, by all means, dear M. Pascal." Then turning to her husband, with surprise, she said: "Charles, what are you doing there, seated before that desk?" "M. Pascal will excuse me. I just recollected that I had neglected to examine some notes relative to important business," replied Dutertre, turning the leaves of some papers, to keep himself in countenance, and to hide from his wife, to whom he had turned his back, the pain which showed itself in his face. "My dear," said Sophie, in a tone of tender reproach; "can you not lay aside work now and wait until--" "Madame Dutertre, I shall rebel if you disturb your husband on my account," cried M. Pascal, "do I not know the exactness of business? Come, come, happy woman that you are, thanks to the indefatigable labour of brave Dutertre, who stands to-day at the head of his business." "And who has encouraged him in his zeal for work, but you, M. Pascal? If Charles is as you say at the head of his industry, if our future and that of our children is ever assured, do we not owe it to you?" "My dear Madame Dutertre, you confuse me so that I shall not know how to ask the little service I expect from you." "Oh, I forgot it," replied Sophie, smiling, "but we were speaking of more important services that you have rendered us, were we not? But tell us quick, quick,--what is it?" said the young woman, with an eagerness which gave her an additional charm. "What I am going to tell you will surprise you, perhaps?" "So much the better, I adore surprises." "Ah, well, the isolation of bachelor life weighs upon me, and--" "And?" "I wish to get married." "Truly!" "Does it astonish you? I am sure it does." "You are entirely mistaken, for in my opinion you ought to get married." "Pray, why?" "How often I have said to myself, sooner or later this good M. Pascal, who lives so much by his heart, will enjoy the sweets of family life, and, if I must confess my vain presumption," added Sophie, "I said to myself, it is impossible that the sight of the happiness Charles and I enjoy should not some day suggest the idea of marriage to M. Pascal. Now, was I not happy in foreseeing your intention?" "Have your triumph, then, dear Madame Dutertre, because, in fact, seduced by your example and that of your husband, I desire to make, as you two did, a marriage of love." "Can any other marriage be possible?" replied Sophie, shrugging her shoulders with a most graceful movement, and, without reflecting upon the thirty-eight years of M. Pascal, she added: "And you are loved?" "My God, that depends on you." "On me?" "Absolutely." "On me?" exclaimed Sophie, with increasing surprise. "Do you hear, Charles, what M. Pascal says." "I hear," replied Dutertre, who, not less astonished than his wife, was listening with involuntary anxiety. "How can I, M. Pascal, how can I make you loved?" asked Sophie.