"Well, Monsieur Emile, what are you doing here?" queried Jean Jappeloup, whose approach he had not observed, and who had seated himself by his side. "I was looking for you, for I had fallen into the habit of talking with you in the evening, and when I don't see you after my day's work, I miss you. What is the trouble? Have you got a headache, that you hold your head in your hands as if you were afraid of losing it?" "It is too late, my friend," replied Emile; "my head is lost forever." "Why, are you so very much in love? Tell us when the wedding is to be." "Soon, Jean, whenever we choose!" cried Emile, wild at the thought. "My father consents, and I am going to marry her. Yes, I am going to marry her, do you hear? for if I don't, I shall die. Tell me, mustn't I marry her?" "The devil! I should think so! How can you hesitate a minute? I would never be the one to justify you, if you should throw her over; and upon my word, my boy, I believe I would force you to marry her even if I had to fight you." "Yes, it's my duty, isn't it?" "Damnation! one would say that you doubt it. You have a sort of daft way of saying that." "Yes, I am daft, it is true; but no matter. I know my duty now, and you confirm me in my best resolution. Let us go to Châteaubrun together!" "Are you going there? All right; but let's walk fast, for it is late. You can tell me on the way how your father, whom I believed to be a madman, suddenly made up his mind to be sensible." "My father is mad, in very truth," said Emile, taking the carpenter's arm and walking excitedly beside him; "altogether mad! for he gives his consent on condition that I tell him a lie which he will not believe. But it is a triumph to him, a genuine delight, to induce me to lie!" "Look here," said Jappeloup, "you've not been drinking? No, you never drink too much! and yet you are crazy. They say that love makes one as drunk as wine; it must be true, for you say things without rhyme or reason." "My father, who is mad," continued Emile, beside himself with excitement, "wants to make me mad too, and he is succeeding finely, as you see! He wants me to tell him that two and two make five, and to take my oath to it before him. I consent, you see! What harm does it do to flatter his mania, so long as I marry Gilberte?" "I don't like all this business, Emile," said the carpenter. "I don't understand it, and it annoys me. If you are mad, I don't propose that Gilberte shall marry you. Let us stop here and try to collect our wits a little. I have no desire to take you to Châteaubrun, if you are going to ramble in this way, my son." "Jean, I feel very ill," said Emile, sitting down again; "I am dizzy. Try to understand me, to calm me, to help me to understand myself. You know that I don't think as my father does. Well, my father insists that I shall think as he does; that's the whole story! That is impossible; but so long as I say the same things that he does, what difference does it make?"