"Praise him--flatter him!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, naively. "Did I suppose then that he would have the impudence to take it into his head to marry the richest heiress in France, or to think of such a thing as competing with my son? Besides, with all his boasted shrewdness, the man is nothing more or less than a fool to apply to me for assistance in his schemes! He will be surprised when he finds out how I will serve his interests. His pretensions are ridiculous, positively ridiculous! He is an adventurer, a scoundrel! He hasn't even a name, and looks like a sacristan who has just been to dine with his parish priest. He is a hypocrite, a pedant, and a most unmitigated bore, with all his pretended virtues. Besides, he hasn't the slightest chance, for, from what Madame de la Rochaigue tells me, Mlle. de Beaumesnil would be delighted to become a duchess. Quite a woman of the world, though so young, she has a full appreciation of all the pleasures and advantages which a large fortune combined with a high social position gives, and it certainly is not a plebeian like M. de Macreuse who can give her this high social position." "And what reply did you make to his request?" "Enraged at his audacity, I was on the point of telling him that his pretensions were as absurd as they were insolent, and of forbidding him to ever set foot in my house again; but I reflected that I might be able to circumvent him most successfully by pretending that I was willing to assist him, so I promised that I would speak of him, as he deserved--and I certainly shall not fail to do so. Oh, I will urge his claims in an effectual manner, I'll vouch for that." "Do you know, my dear mother, that it is not at all unlikely that Macreuse will attain his end?" "He marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil, he?" "Yes." "Nonsense! Are you, too, mad?" "Don't deceive yourself, mother. The coterie that sustains him is all-powerful. He has on his side,--I don't mind telling you now you detest him so thoroughly,--he has on his side all the women who have become bigots, because they are old, all the young women who are prudes, because they are ugly, all the male devotees, because they make capital out of their religion, and all the serious-minded men, because they are so stupid; so you see the name of his supporters is legion." "But with my social standing, my opinion will have some weight, I think," retorted the duchess. "But you have been one of his warmest champions and admirers up to the present time, and no one will be able to explain your sudden change of feeling, or, rather, every one will be able to explain it; and, instead of injuring Macreuse, the war you wage against him will aid him. The fellow is an unmitigated scoundrel and arrant hypocrite. You have no idea with whom you have to deal, my dear mother." "Really, you take this very calmly--with truly heroic self-abnegation, I might say," exclaimed the duchess, bitterly.