It was blunderingly enough spoken, but it served. Marsac saw, in a moment, that Madame Fleury would much rather after that have killed him than married him; and when she spoke, her cold dignity made him feel like a mouse under an exhausted air-receiver. “I don’t know but that you are right, after all, and Monsieur Fontaine is really the superior man, and consequently better suited to me.” The door at that moment flew wide open, and Fontaine rushed in,--his coat a mass of mud and rags, and his trousers slit from the knee to the hip; and he did not have Marsac’s shoes. Without observing Madame Fleury, who sat a little to one side, he burst out,-- “It’s no good, Marsac; the shoemaker said three francs or no shoes.” Then seeing Madame Fleury, he stopped, overwhelmed with embarrassment. Not so the lady, who quietly remarked to Marsac,-- “This accounts for the story of the cabinet dinner, and the gout, and so on;” and she added, with an air of the finest sarcasm, “I see no earthly reason why you, Monsieur Marsac, should not succeed brilliantly in journalism.” Marsac was quite disposed to let Fontaine take his part of the situation then, and said not a word; but Fontaine exclaimed,-- “I know what you have come for, Madame Fleury. It is the rent.” “Then you show very superior intelligence to Monsieur Marsac, as I had the greatest difficulty in making him understand what I came for,” responded Madame Fleury. “I am awfully sorry,” kept on Fontaine, “but we haven’t a sou except this,”--holding out two francs,--“and I had an accident on the way, and ruined my only coat and trousers, and Marsac has no shoes, and I don’t know what we shall do.” Fontaine stopped, half crying. “I can suggest something,” said Madame Fleury, showing an amazing calmness. “Not to go over the same ground twice, I have determined to change my name and condition; and--” Here she paused for effect, and Marsac came unexpectedly to her assistance. “Fontaine,” said he, solemnly, “I have been a true friend to you. As soon as Madame Fleury mentioned this, I offered her your hand.” Fontaine looked at Marsac, supposing either he himself or his friend had gone crazy; but Marsac’s cool demeanour proved that he at least was sane. Fontaine, with his mouth open, but dumb with astonishment, gazed first at Marsac and then at Madame Fleury. “He is speechless with happiness,” cried Marsac. “I knew he would be delighted. You see, marrying runs in Fontaine’s family. His father and mother were married, and his grandparents on both sides were married; and even his great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers were married. Isn’t that so, Fontaine?” Fontaine, still dazed, mumbled, “I don’t know.” “Fie, you bad man!” replied Marsac, laughing. “Pray, Madame Fleury, don’t believe that. I know what I am talking about, and I assure you that all these people in Fontaine’s family were married.”