Marsac’s only reply was to catch her round the waist, and say soothingly, as he dragged her back to the door, “My dear girl, you will certainly ruin Fontaine’s reputation if you act in this manner.” “I don’t care a fig for my reputation,” bawled Madame Schmid,--“it is money I am after; and money I mean to have, out of Monsieur Fontaine!” Marsac managed to get her outside the door, which he took the precaution to lock behind her, and said as he stepped back into the room, “That’s a sample of what poor Fontaine has had to put up with since he came into his money. And there is another one--a widow--who is worse than all.” “Oh, Jupiter!” was Monsieur Duval’s exclamation, as he picked himself up off the floor, and dusted his knees and elbows. “A very handsome woman, a comtesse,--the Comtesse de Fleury. She got a written promise out of Fontaine, in a moment of weakness--you understand?” “Yes--a widow and a moment of weakness! I understand,” said the old brewer, feelingly. “It isn’t of the slightest legal value, though, as I can testify that it was obtained under duress; and Fontaine would give half he is worth to get rid of her.” As Marsac said this about the written agreement, he could not help wishing, with all his heart, that he had it that moment in his possession. Monsieur Duval reflected seriously for some minutes before speaking. “I acknowledge to you,” he said, “that I regard a widow in an affair of this sort as a person to be reckoned with; and it is I who tell you so, and I have a head on my shoulders. Now, I hear you have great influence with Monsieur Fontaine--” “Not a particle,” Marsac protested vigorously. “Nonsense! You are trying to fool me! But I will say this to you. Taking into account my daughter’s fancy for your friend Fontaine, and his good character and his good birth and his fortune, if you can bring about an--arrangement--you understand--it will be for the happiness of the young people.” “I would do anything for Fontaine’s happiness,” said Marsac. “Then, couldn’t you--ahem--the widow--Now, you are yourself a very attractive fellow. Perhaps the widow might make an exchange?” “Take me, do you mean? My dear sir, I would do anything on earth for Fontaine but one; and that is, to get married.” “Ha! ha! That’s the way Delphine talks.” “I haven’t the remotest idea how to make an offer. It would be like a horse trying to play the fiddle.” “Oh, well, you need not mind about that, with a widow. She will do the business for you.” “She shall not have a chance, if I can help it--that is,” stammered Marsac, as he recollected that Madame Fleury had already proposed to him. “To be very confidential, this particular widow has--er--before entangling Fontaine--in an interview with me--” Marsac stopped, blushing; and Monsieur Duval, closing one eye, playfully poked him in the ribs. [Illustration]