Madame Firmiani | Page 7

is nothing to me whether your nephew is rich or
poor; if I have received him in my house, and do now receive him, it is
because I consider him worthy to be counted among my friends. All my
friends, monsieur, respect each other; they know that I have not
philosophy enough to admit into my house those I do not esteem; this
may argue a want of charity; but my guardian-angel has maintained in
me to this day a profound aversion for tattle, and also for dishonesty."
Through the ring of her voice was slightly raised during the first part of
this answer, the last words were said with the ease and self-possession
of Celimene bantering the Misanthrope.
"Madame," said Monsieur de Bourbonne, in a voice of some emotion,
"I am an old man; I am almost Octave's father, and I ask your pardon
most humbly for the question that I shall now venture to put to you,
giving you my word of honor as a loyal gentleman that your answer
shall die here,"--laying his hand upon his heart, with an old-fashioned
gesture that was truly religious. "Are these rumors true; do you love
Octave?"
"Monsieur," she replied, "to any other man I should answer that
question only by a look; but to you, and because you are indeed almost
the father of Monsieur de Camps, I reply by asking what you would
think of a woman if to such a question she answered _you_? To avow
our love for him we love, when he loves us--ah! that may be; but even
when we are certain of being loved forever, believe me, monsieur, it is
an effort for us, and a reward to him. To say to another!--"
She did not end her sentence, but rose, bowed to the old man, and
withdrew into her private apartments, the doors of which, opening and
closing behind her, had a language of their own to his sagacious ears.
"Ah! the mischief!" thought he; "what a woman! she is either a sly one
or an angel"; and he got into his hired coach, the horses of which were

stamping on the pavement of the silent courtyard, while the coachman
was asleep on his box after cursing for the hundredth time his tardy
customer.
The next morning about eight o'clock the old gentleman mounted the
stairs of a house in the rue de l'Observance where Octave de Camps
was living. If there was ever an astonished man it was the young
professor when he beheld his uncle. The door was unlocked, his lamp
still burning; he had been sitting up all night.
"You rascal!" said Monsieur de Bourbonne, sitting down in the nearest
chair; "since when is it the fashion to laugh at uncles who have
twenty-six thousand francs a year from solid acres to which we are the
sole heir? Let me tell you that in the olden time we stood in awe of
such uncles as that. Come, speak up, what fault have you to find with
me? Haven't I played my part as uncle properly? Did I ever require you
to respect me? Have I ever refused you money? When did I shut the
door in your face on pretence that you had come to look after my health?
Haven't you had the most accommodating and the least domineering
uncle that there is in France,--I won't say Europe, because that might be
too presumptuous. You write to me, or you don't write,--no matter, I
live on pledged affection, and I am making you the prettiest estate in all
Touraine, the envy of the department. To be sure, I don't intend to let
you have it till the last possible moment, but that's an excusable little
fancy, isn't it? And what does monsieur himself do? --sells his own
property and lives like a lackey!--"
"Uncle--"
"I'm not talking about uncles, I'm talking nephew. I have a right to your
confidence. Come, confess at once; it is much the easiest way; I know
that by experience. Have you been gambling? have you lost money at
the Bourse? Say, 'Uncle, I'm a wretch,' and I'll hug you. But if you tell
me any lies greater than those I used to tell at your age I'll sell my
property, buy an annuity, and go back to the evil ways of my youth--if I
can."
"Uncle--"
"I saw your Madame Firmiani yesterday," went on the old fellow,
kissing the tips of his fingers, which he gathered into a bunch. "She is
charming. You have the consent and approbation of your uncle, if that
will do you any good. As to the sanction of the Church I suppose that's

useless, and the sacraments cost so much in these days. Come, speak
out, have you ruined yourself for her?"