Bigourdin heaved a mighty sigh. “Ah, _mon vieux_!” said he by way of answer. The sigh and the “Ah, _mon vieux_!” were eloquent of shattered ideals. “There is always Madame Thuillier who used to help me when Félise was little,” he continued after a while, meditatively. “She has experience, but she is as ugly as a monkey, the poor woman!” Whereupon he sighed again, leaving Martin in doubt as to the exact position he intended the ill-favoured lady to occupy in his household. Anyhow, Martin was forewarned of the ex-warrior’s advent. So was Félise. “But I cannot leave you, _mon oncle_,” she cried in dismay. “What would become of you? Who would mend your linen? What would become of the hotel? What would become of the fabrique?” “Bah!” said he, snapping his fingers at such insignificant considerations. “There is always the _brave_ Madame Thuillier.” “But I thought you detested her—as much as you can detest anybody.” “You are mistaken, _mon enfant_,” replied Bigourdin. “I have a great regard for her. She has striking qualities. She is a woman of ripe age and much common sense.” Which shows how double-tongued men may be. “_C’est une vieille pimbèche!_” cried Félise. “_Tais-toi_,” said Bigourdin severely. For a “_vieille pimbèche_” means, at the very least, a horrid old tabby with her claws out. “I won’t be silent,” laughed Félise rebelliously. “_C’est une vieille pimbèche_, and I’m not going to leave you to her. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to marry.” “That is what all little girls say,” replied Bigourdin. “But when you see Lucien return, _joli garçon_, holding his head in the air like a brave little soldier of France, and looking at you out of his honest eyes, you will no longer tell me, ‘_Je ne veux pas me marier, mon oncle_.’” She laughed at his outrageous mimicry of a modest little girl’s accent. “It’s true all the same,” she retorted. “I don’t want to marry anybody, and Lucien after having seen all the pretty girls of Paris won’t want to marry me.” “If he doesn’t——!” cried Bigourdin threateningly. “If he dares——!” “Well, what then?” asked Félise. “I’ll have a serious conversation with his father,” declared Bigourdin.