Hyacinth earnestly debated; it was now perfectly clear to him that Schinkel had some sort of message for him, and his curiosity as to what it might be had become nearly intolerable. “I’m surprised at your weakness,” he observed as sternly as he could manage it to Poupin. The Frenchman stared at him and then fell on his neck. “You’re sublime, my young friend—you’re truly sublime!” “Will you be so good as to tell me what you’re going to do with that young man?” demanded Madame Poupin with a glare at Schinkel. “It’s none of your business, my poor lady,” Hyacinth replied, disengaging himself from her husband. “Schinkel, I wish you’d just walk away with me.” “_Calmons-nous, entendons-nous, expliquons-nous!_ The situation’s very simple,” Poupin went on. “I’ll go with you if it will give you pleasure,” said Schinkel very obligingly to Hyacinth. “Then you’ll give me that letter, the sealed one, first!” Madame Poupin, erecting herself, declared to the German. “My wife, you’re _bien sotte_!” Poupin groaned, lifting his hands and shoulders and turning away. “I may be anything you like, but I won’t be a party—no, God help me, not to that!” the good woman protested, planted before Schinkel as to prevent his moving. “If you’ve a letter for me you ought to give it to me, hang you!” said Hyacinth to Schinkel. “You’ve no right to give it to any one else.” “I’ll bring it to you in your house, my good friend,” Schinkel replied with a vain, public wink which seemed to urge how Madame Poupin must be considered. “Oh in his house—_I_’ll go to his house!” this lady cried. “I regard you, I’ve always regarded you, as my child,” she continued to Hyacinth, “and if this isn’t an occasion for a mother——!” “It’s you who are making it an occasion. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Hyacinth. He had been questioning Schinkel’s face and believed he found in it a queer, convulsed but honest appeal to depend on him. “I’ve disturbed you and I think I had better go away.” Poupin had turned round again; he seized the young man’s arm eagerly, as to prevent his retiring without taking in his false position. “How can you care when you know everything’s changed?” “What do you mean—everything’s changed?” “Your opinions, your sympathies, your whole attitude. I don’t approve of it—_je le constate_. You’ve withdrawn your confidence from the people; you’ve said things on this spot, where you stand now, that have given pain to my wife and me.” “If we didn’t love you we should say you had madly betrayed us!”—she quickly took her husband’s idea. “Oh I shall never madly betray you,” Hyacinth rather languidly smiled. “You’ll never hand us over—of course you think so. But you’ve no right to act for the people when you’ve ceased to believe in the people. _Il faut être conséquent, nom de Dieu!_” Poupin went on. “You’ll give up all thoughts of acting for me—_je ne permets pas ça_!” grandly added his wife.