“M. d’Ionis is very brave, he has given proofs of it; but he believes in ghosts and fears them. Let the three young ladies forbid us to hasten the law suit and the suit will remain inactive.” “So, you can think of nothing better to satisfy the desire I feel of aiding you, than that of condemning me to the use of abominable impostures? Ah! Madame, how well you understand the art of making people unhappy!” “What! you are so scrupulous as all that? Haven’t you already participated with a good grace?” “A joke without consequences was all very well; but if M. d’Ionis inquires into the matter and summons me to declare upon my honor....” “True! ’Tis only another worthless idea! Let us attempt no more to-day.” “_La nuit porte conseil._” “To-morrow, perhaps, I shall at last be able to propose something practicable. It is getting late, and I hear the abbé Lamyre who is looking for us.” The abbé Lamyre was a charming little man. Although fifty years old, he was still fresh and good-looking. He was kind, frivolous, witty, entertaining, full of fun, and in fact, held philosophical opinions, always agreeing with those whom he conversed with, for the question with him was not to persuade, but to please. He threw his arms around my neck, and heaped praises upon me which I esteemed at their proper value, as coming from one whom I knew lavished them upon everyone, but for which I was more thankful than usual, on account of the pleasure they seemed to afford Madame d’Ionis. He praised my great talents as a lawyer and poet and forced me to recite some verses, which appeared to be relished more than they deserved. Madame d’Ionis, after having complimented me with an air of emotion and sincerity, left us together to attend to the cares of her household. The abbé talked of a thousand things that did not interest me. I would have liked to be alone to indulge in a revery, to recall each word, each gesture of Madame d’Ionis; but the abbé attached himself to me, and told me numerous ingenious stories that I consigned to the devil. At last, the conversation assumed a lively interest for me, when it turned upon the burning ground of my relations with Madame d’Ionis. “I know what brings you here,” said he, “she has already spoken to me about it. Without knowing the day of your visit, she was expecting you. Your father does not wish her to ruin herself, and, _parbleu_, he is very right. But he will not convince her, and you must either quarrel with her, or let her have her own way. If she believed in the green ladies, _à la bonne heure_, you might make them speak in her interest, but unfortunately she has no more faith in them than you or I!” “Madame d’Ionis pretends however that you do believe in them, Monsieur l’abbé.”