No, he said nothing, he could find nothing to say. Thereupon the draper slowly resumed: "I was sure this would grieve you. You must muster up courage. Pull yourself together a bit, don't let yourself be crushed in this way. Above all, understand my position. Can I hang such a weight about your neck? Instead of leaving you a good business, I should leave you a bankruptcy perhaps. No, only scoundrels play such tricks as that! No doubt, I desire nothing but your happiness, but nobody shall ever make me go against my conscience." And he went on for a long time in this way, meandering through a maze of contradictory sentences, like a man who would have liked to be understood at the first word but finds himself obliged to explain everything. As he had promised his daughter and the shop, strict probity forced him to deliver both in good condition, without defects or debts. But he was weary, the burden seemed to be too much for him, and entreaty almost pierced though his stammering accents. At last he got more entangled than ever, awaiting some sudden impulse from Colomban, some heartfelt cry, which did not come. "I know," he murmured, "that old men are wanting in ardour. With young ones, things light up. They are full of fire, it's only natural. But, no, no, I can't, my word of honour! If I gave it up to you, you would blame me later on." He stopped, trembling, and as the young man still kept his head down, he asked him for the third time, after a painful silence: "You don't say anything?" Then, at last, without venturing to look at him, Colomban replied: "There's nothing to say. You are the master, you know better than all of us. As you wish it we'll wait, we'll try and be reasonable." It was all over. Baudu still hoped he was going to throw himself into his arms, exclaiming: "Father, do you take a rest, we'll fight in our turn; give us the shop as it is, so that we may work a miracle and save it!" Then, however, he looked at him, and felt full of shame, reproaching himself for having wished to dupe his children. His deep-rooted maniacal commercial honesty was awakened in him; it was this prudent fellow who was right, for there is no such thing as sentiment in business, which is only a question of figures. "Embrace me, my boy," he said in conclusion. "It's settled; we won't speak about the marriage for another year. One must think of the business before everything." That evening, in their room, when Madame Baudu questioned her husband as to the result of the conversation, the draper had regained his obstinate resolve to fight on in person to the bitter end. He gave Colomban high praise, calling him a solid fellow, firm in his ideas, brought up in the best principles, incapable, for instance, of joking with the customers like those puppies at The Paradise. No, he was honest, he belonged to the family, he didn't speculate on the business as though he were a stock-jobber. "Well, then, when's the marriage to take place?" asked Madame Baudu.