“Then to M. de Brisac, for Heaven’s sake, let her go,” cried Mrs. Somers, bursting into a fit of laughter, which astonished Emilie beyond measure. “To M. de Brisac let her go--‘tis the best thing she can possibly do, my dear; and seriously to tell you the truth, I have always thought it would be an excellent match. Since she is so much prepossessed in his favour, can she do better than marry him? and, as he is so much attached to the house of Coulanges, when he cannot have the daughter, can he do better than marry the mother?--Your mother does not look too old for him, when she is well rouged; and I am sure, if she heard me say so, she would forgive me all the rest--butterfly, frivolity, and all inclusive. Permit me, Emilie, to laugh.” “I cannot permit any body to laugh at mamma,” said Emilie; “and Mrs. Somers is the last person whom I should have supposed would have been inclined to laugh, when I told her that I was really unhappy.” “My dear Emilie, I forgive you for being angry, because I never saw you angry before; and that is more than you can say for me. You do me justice, however, by supposing that I should be the last person to laugh when you are in woe, unless I thought--unless I was sure--that I could remove the cause, and make you completely happy.” “That, I fear, is impossible,” said Emilie: “for mamma’s pride and her feelings have been so much hurt, that I do not think any apology would now calm her mind.” “Apology!--I am not in the least inclined to make any. Can I tell Mad. de Coulanges that I do not think her frivolous?--Impossible, indeed, my dear! I will do any thing else to oblige you. But I have as much pride, and as much feeling, in my own way, as any of the house of Coulanges: and if, after all I have done, madame can quarrel with me about a butterfly, I must say, not only that she is the most frivolous, but the most ungrateful woman upon earth; and, as she desires to quit my house, far from attempting to detain her, I can only wish that she may accomplish her purpose as soon as possible--as soon as it may suit her own convenience. As for you, Emilie, I do not suspect you of the ingratitude of wishing to leave me--I can make distinctions, even when I have most reason to be angry. I do not blame you, my dear--I do not ever ask you to blame your mother. I respect your filial piety--I am sure you must think her to blame, but I do not desire you to say so. Could any thing be more barbarously selfish than the plan of marrying _you_ to this M. de Brisac, that _she_ might have an establishment more to her taste than my house has been able to afford?” Emilie attempted, but in vain, to say a few words for her mother. Mrs. Somers ran on with her own thoughts.