At this confirmation of Antonine's love for Frantz, a secret already half understood by M. Pascal, he was filled with rage and resentment, which was all the more violent for reason of the refusal of Madame Dutertre, who declined to enter into his impossible plans; but he restrained himself with a view of attempting a last effort. Failing in that, he resolved to take a terrible revenge. So, with apparent calmness, he replied: "Ah, so Mlle. Antonine is in love! Well, so be it; but we know, my dear Madame Dutertre, what these grand passions of young girls are,--a straw fire. You can blow it out; this beautiful love could not resist your influence." "I assure you, M. Pascal, I would not try to influence Antonine upon this subject, for it would be useless." "You think so?" "I am certain of it." "Bah! it is always worth while to try." "But I tell you, sir, that Antonine--" "Is in love! I understand, and more, the good old bachelor Pascal is thirty-eight, and evidently not handsome, but on the other hand he has some handsome little millions, and when this evening (for you will see her this evening, will you not? I count on it) you make this unsophisticated maiden comprehend that, if love is a good thing, money is still better, for love passes and money stays, she will follow your counsel, dismiss her lover to-morrow, and I will have no more to say but 'Glory and thanks to you, my dear Madame Dutertre!'" Sophie stared at M. Pascal in amazement. Her womanly sensitivity was deeply shocked, and her instinct told her that a man who could talk as M. Pascal had done was not the man of good feeling and rectitude that she had believed him to be. At this moment, too, Dutertre rose from his chair, showing in his countenance the perplexity which agitated his mind; for the first time, his wife observed the alteration of his expression, and exclaimed as she advanced to meet him: "My God! Charles, how pale you are! Are you in pain?" "No, Sophie, nothing is the matter with me,--only a slight headache." "But I tell you something else is the matter. This pallor is not natural. Oh, M. Pascal, do look at Charles!" "Really, my good Dutertre, you do not appear at your ease." "Nothing is the matter, sir," replied Dutertre, with an icy tone which increased Sophie's undefined fear. She looked in silence, first at her husband, and then at M. Pascal, trying to discern the cause of the change that she saw and feared. "Well, my dear Dutertre," said M. Pascal, "you have heard our conversation; pray join me in trying to make your dear and excellent wife comprehend that mademoiselle, notwithstanding her foolish, childish love, could not find a better party than myself." "I share my wife's opinion on this subject, monsieur." "What! You wicked man! you, too!" "Yes, monsieur." "Pray consider that--" "My wife has told you, sir. We made a marriage of love, and, like her, I believe that love marriages are the only happy ones."