Jacques Bastien never jested on money matters, and these words, "I would not give my evening for fifty thousand francs," he pronounced with such an accent of certainty and satisfaction that not only the bailiff believed in the mysterious words, but Madame Bastien believed in them also, and felt her secret terror increasing. In fact, the affected calmness of her husband, who--a strange and unnatural thing--grew paler in proportion as he drank, his satirical smile, his eyes glittering with a sort of baleful joy, when from time to time he looked at Frederick and his mother, carried anguish to the soul of the young woman. So, at the end of the repast, she said to Jacques, after having made a sign to Frederick to follow her: "Monsieur, I feel very much fatigued and quite ill; I ask your permission to retire with my son." "As you please," replied Jacques, with a guttural laugh, already showing excess of drink, "as you please; where there is constraint there is no pleasure. Do not incommode yourself. I shall incommode myself no longer. Be calm, have patience." At these words, as ambiguous as the first, which no doubt hid some mental reservation, Marie, having nothing to say, rose, while Frederick, obeying a glance from his mother, approached Jacques, and said to him, respectfully: "Good night, father." Jacques turned around to Bridou, without replying to his son, and said, as he measured Frederick with a satirical glance: "How do you like him?" "My faith, a very pretty boy." "Seventeen years old, soon," added Jacques. "That is a fine age for us," added the bailiff, exchanging an intelligent glance with Jacques, who said rudely to his son: "Good evening." Marie and Frederick retired, leaving Jacques Bastien and his comrade Bridou at the table. CHAPTER XXXVI. When Madame Bastien and Frederick, coming out of the dining-room, passed by the library, they saw David there, standing in the door watching for them. Marie extended her hand to him cordially, and said, making allusion to the two outrages to which the preceptor had so patiently submitted: "Can you still have the same devotion to us?" A loud noise of moving chairs and bursts of laughter from the dining-room informed the young woman that her husband and the bailiff were rising from the table. She hastened to her apartment with Frederick, after having said to David, with a look of despair: "To-morrow morning, M. David. I am now in unspeakable agony." "To-morrow, my friend," said Frederick, in his turn, to David, as he passed him. Then Marie and her son entered their apartment, while David ascended to the garret chamber he was to share with André. Scarcely had he entered his mother's chamber when Frederick threw himself in his mother's arms and cried with bitterness: "Oh, mother! we were so happy before the arrival of--"