“Certainly!” resumed Madame d’Arlange. “Without her, would I have to live as I am doing, refusing myself everything to make both ends meet? Not a bit of it! I would invest my fortune in a life annuity. But I know, thank heaven, the duties of a mother; and I economise all I can for my little Claire.” This devotion appeared so admirable to M. Daburon, that he could not utter a word. “Ah! I am terribly anxious about this dear child,” continued the marchioness. “I confess M. Daburon, it makes me giddy when I wonder how I am to marry her.” The magistrate reddened with pleasure. At last his opportunity had arrived; he must take advantage of it at once. “It seems to me,” stammered he, “that to find Mademoiselle Claire a husband ought not to be difficult.” “Unfortunately, it is. She is pretty enough, I admit, although rather thin, but, now-a-days, beauty goes for nothing. Men are so mercenary they think only of money. I do not know of one who has the manhood to take a d’Arlange with her bright eyes for a dowry.” “I believe that you exaggerate,” remarked M. Daburon, timidly. “By no means. Trust to my experience which is far greater than yours. Besides, when I find a son-in-law, he will cause me a thousand troubles. Of this, I am assured by my lawyer. I shall be compelled, it seems, to render an account of Claire’s patrimony. As if ever I kept accounts! It is shameful! Ah! if Claire had any sense of filial duty, she would quietly take the veil in some convent. I would use every effort to pay the necessary dower; but she has no affection for me.” M. Daburon felt that now was the time to speak. He collected his courage, as a good horseman pulls his horse together when going to leap a hedge, and in a voice, which he tried to render firm, he said: “Well! Madame, I believe I know a party who would suit Mademoiselle Claire,--an honest man, who loves her, and who will do everything in the world to make her happy.” “That,” said Madame d’Arlange, “is always understood.” “The man of whom I speak,” continued the magistrate, “is still young, and is rich. He will be only too happy to receive Mademoiselle Claire without a dowry. Not only will he decline an examination of your accounts of guardianship, but he will beg you to invest your fortune as you think fit.” “Really! Daburon, my friend, you are by no means a fool!” exclaimed the old lady. “If you prefer not to invest your fortune in a life-annuity, your son-in-law will allow you sufficient to make up what you now find wanting.” “Ah! really I am stifling,” interrupted the marchioness. “What! you know such a man, and have never yet mentioned him to me! You ought to have introduced him long ago.” “I did not dare, madame, I was afraid--” “Quick! tell me who is this admirable son-in-law, this white blackbird? where does he nestle?” The magistrate felt a strange fluttering of the heart; he was going to stake his happiness on a word. At length he stammered, “It is I, madame!”