"Ah! I did a foolish
thing!"
"Max!" said Francois, taking his arm. "They are coming to-night."
"They! Who!"
"The Bridaus. My grandmother has just had a letter from her
goddaughter."
"Listen, my boy," said Max in a low voice. "I have been thinking
deeply of this matter. Neither Flore nor I ought to seem opposed to
the Bridaus. If these heirs are to be got rid of, it is for you
Hochons to drive them out of Issoudun. Find out what sort of people
they are. To-morrow at Mere Cognette's, after I've taken their
measure, we can decide what is to be done, and how we can set your
grandfather against them."
"The Spaniard found the flaw in Max's armor," said Baruch to his
cousin Francois, as they turned into Monsieur Hochon's house and
watched their comrade entering his own door.
While Max was thus employed, Flore, in spite of her friend's advice,
was unable to restrain her wrath; and without knowing whether she
would help or hinder Max's plans, she burst forth upon the poor
bachelor. When Jean-Jacques incurred the anger of his mistress, the
little attentions and vulgar fondlings which were all his joy were
suddenly suppressed. Flore sent her master, as the children say, into
disgrace. No more tender glances, no more of the caressing little
words in various tones with which she decked her conversation,--"my
kitten," "my old darling," "my bibi," "my rat," etc. A "you," cold and
sharp and ironically respectful, cut like the blade of a knife through
the heart of the miserable old bachelor.
Pages:
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531