"He will know that it does not do to throw away everything for a pair
of red lips. That is the folly of a boy, and Adolphe will be no
longer a boy. Believe me, Mere Bauche, things will be right enough."
"And then we shall have Marie sick and ill and half dying on our
hands," said Madame Bauche.
This was not flattering to the capitaine, and so he felt it.
"Perhaps so, perhaps not," he said. "But at any rate she will get
over it. It is a malady which rarely kills young women--especially
when another alliance awaits them."
"Bah!" said Madame Bauche; and in saying that word she avenged
herself for the too great liberty which the capitaine had lately
taken. He shrugged his shoulders, took a pinch of snuff and
uninvited helped himself to a teaspoonful of cognac. Then the
conference ended, and on the next morning before breakfast Adolphe
Bauche arrived.
On that morning poor Marie hardly knew how to bear herself. A month
or two back, and even up to the last day or two, she had felt a sort
of confidence that Adolphe would be true to her; but the nearer came
that fatal day the less strong was the confidence of the poor girl.
She knew that those two long-headed, aged counsellors were plotting
against her happiness, and she felt that she could hardly dare hope
for success with such terrible foes opposed to her.
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