"Very well, monsieur, if you know what is in the wind, and if Monsieur Antoine has thought best to state his views before you,--which, between ourselves, was hardly worth while--I will speak as if you were not here. And in the first place, Gilberte, you mustn't cry; what is it that makes you feel so bad, my girl? Because a poor fool considers himself worthy of you? Oh! bless my soul, it isn't the last time that you will have the pleasure, married or not, of seeing self-sufficient people make themselves ridiculous; for you must laugh at them, my child, and not be angry. This fellow thinks that he does you honor and gives you proof of esteem; receive it as such, and tell him or have somebody else tell him in all seriousness that you thank him, but that you will have none of him. I can't see at all why you are so disturbed; do you happen to think that I am disposed to encourage him? Ah! he might have a hundred thousand francs, or a hundred million, and I shouldn't think he was the man for my girl! The villain, with his big eyes and his air of satisfaction at being in the world--let him look farther! we have no girl here to give him. Oh! _ma mie_ Janille knows what she is talking about, she knows that they don't put the thistle beside the rose in the same bouquet." "That is well said, dear Janille!" cried Emile, "and you are worthy to be called her mother!" "What concern is it of yours, pray, monsieur?" retorted Janille, warmed up and exalted by her own eloquence. "What have you to do with our little affairs? Do you know anything wrong about this suitor? If you do, it's of no use to tell us, for we don't need you to help us to get rid of him." "Stop, Janille, don't scold him," said Gilberte, kissing her old friend. "It does me good to hear it said that that man's proposals are insulting to me, for it humiliates me to think of them. It makes me cold and sick. And yet father doesn't understand it! He considers himself honored by his offer, and will not say anything to keep him out of my sight!" "Ha! ha!" laughed Janille, "he is the one who is at fault, as usual--the bad man! It is he who makes his daughter cry! Look you, monsieur, do you propose to play the tyrant here, I should like to know? Don't look forward to that, for _ma mie_ Janille isn't dead and has no desire to die." "That's right," said Monsieur Antoine; "of course I am a despot, an unnatural father! All right! all right! fall to on me if it relieves you. After that, perhaps my daughter will be kind enough to tell me what the matter is, and what I have done that's so criminal." "Dear father," said Gilberte, throwing herself into his arms, "let us stop this melancholy jesting, and do you make haste to dismiss Monsieur Galuchet forever, so that I can breathe freely again and forget this bad dream." "Ah! there's the rub," said Monsieur Antoine; "the trouble is to know what I am to write to him, and that is something it will be well to consult about."