Part 16

“Then the grammar must be very difficult to learn, for scarcely ten pages have been cut--” Brunner remarked with much candor.

Cecile, abashed, turned away to hide her blushes. A German cannot resist a display of this kind; Brunner caught Cecile’s hand, made her turn, and watched her confusion under his gaze, after the manner of the heroes of the novels of Auguste Lafontaine of chaste memory.

“You are adorable,” said he.

Cecile’s petulant gesture replied, “So are you--who could help liking you?”

“It is all right, mamma,” she whispered to her parent, who came up at that moment with Pons.

The sight of a family party on these occasions is not to be described. Everybody was well satisfied to see a mother put her hand on an eligible son-in-law. Compliments, double-barreled and double-charged, were paid to Brunner (who pretended to understand nothing); to Cecile, on whom nothing was lost; and to the Presidente, who fished for them. Pons heard the blood singing in his ears, the light of all the blazing gas-jets of the theatre footlights seemed to be dazzling his eyes, when Cecile, in a low voice and with the most ingenious circumspection, spoke of her father’s plan of the annuity of twelve hundred francs. The old artist positively declined the offer, bringing forward the value of his fortune in furniture, only now made known to him by Brunner.

The Home Secretary, the First President, the attorney for the crown, the Popinots, and those who had other engagements, all went; and before long no one was left except M. Camusot senior, and Cardot the old notary, and his assistant and son-in-law Berthier. Pons, worthy soul, looking round and seeing no one but the family, blundered out a speech of thanks to the President and his wife for the proposal which Cecile had just made to him. So it is with those who are guided by their feelings; they act upon impulse. Brunner, hearing of an annuity offered in this way, thought that it had very much the look of a commission paid to Pons; he made an Israelite’s return upon himself, his attitude told of more than cool calculation.

Meanwhile Pons was saying to his astonished relations, “My collection or its value will, in any case, go to your family, whether I come to terms with our friend Brunner or keep it.” The Camusots were amazed to hear that Pons was so rich.

Brunner, watching, saw how all these ignorant people looked favorably upon a man once believed to be poor so soon as they knew that he had great possessions. He had seen, too, already that Cecile was spoiled by her father and mother; he amused himself, therefore, by astonishing the good bourgeois.

“I was telling mademoiselle,” said he, “that M. Pons’ pictures were worth that sum to me; but the prices of works of art have risen so much of late, that no one can tell how much the collection might sell for at public auction. The sixty pictures might fetch a million francs; several that I saw the other day were worth fifty thousand apiece.”

“It is a fine thing to be your heir!” remarked old Cardot, looking at Pons.

“My heir is my Cousin Cecile here,” answered Pons, insisting on the relationship. There was a flutter of admiration at this.

“She will be a very rich heiress,” laughed old Cardot, as he took his departure.

Camusot senior, the President and his wife, Cecile, Brunner, Berthier, and Pons were now left together; for it was assumed that the formal demand for Cecile’s hand was about to be made. No sooner was Cardot gone, indeed, than Brunner began with an inquiry which augured well.

“I think I understood,” he said, turning to Mme. de Marville, “that mademoiselle is your only daughter.”

“Certainly,” the lady said proudly.

“Nobody will make any difficulties,” Pons, good soul, put in by way of encouraging Brunner to bring out his proposal.

But Brunner grew thoughtful, and an ominous silence brought on a coolness of the strangest kind. The Presidente might have admitted that her “little girl” was subject to epileptic fits. The President, thinking that Cecile ought not to be present, signed to her to go. She went. Still Brunner said nothing. They all began to look at one another. The situation was growing awkward.

Camusot senior, a man of experience, took the German to Mme. de Marville’s room, ostensibly to show him Pons’ fan. He saw that some difficulty had arisen, and signed to the rest to leave him alone with Cecile’s suitor-designate.

“Here is the masterpiece,” said Camusot, opening out the fan.

Brunner took it in his hand and looked at it. “It is worth five thousand francs,” he said after a moment.

“Did you not come here, sir, to ask for my granddaughter?” inquired the future peer of France.

“Yes, sir,” said Brunner; “and I beg you to believe that no possible marriage could be more flattering to my vanity. I shall never find any one more charming nor more amiable, nor a young lady who answers to my ideas like Mlle. Cecile; but--”

“Oh, no buts!” old Camusot broke in; “or let us have the translation of your ‘buts’ at once, my dear sir.”

“I am very glad, sir, that the matter has gone no further on either side,” Brunner answered gravely. “I had no idea that Mlle. Cecile was an only daughter. Anybody else would consider this an advantage; but to me, believe me, it is an insurmountable obstacle to--”

“What, sir!” cried Camusot, amazed beyond measure. “Do you find a positive drawback in an immense advantage? Your conduct is really extraordinary; I should very much like to hear the explanation of it.”

“I came here this evening, sir,” returned the German phlegmatically, “intending to ask M. le President for his daughter’s hand. It was my desire to give Mlle. Cecile a brilliant future by offering her so much of my fortune as she would consent to accept. But an only daughter is a child whose will is law to indulgent parents, who has never been contradicted. I have had the opportunity of observing this in many families, where parents worship divinities of this kind. And your granddaughter is not only the idol of the house, but Mme. la Presidente... you know what I mean. I have seen my father’s house turned into a hell, sir, from this very cause. My stepmother, the source of all my misfortunes, an only daughter, idolized by her parents, the most charming betrothed imaginable, after marriage became a fiend incarnate. I do not doubt that Mlle. Cecile is an exception to the rule; but I am not a young man, I am forty years old, and the difference between our ages entails difficulties which would put it out of my power to make the young lady happy, when Mme. la Presidente always carried out her daughter’s every wish and listened to her as if Mademoiselle was an oracle. What right have I to expect Mlle. Cecile to change her habits and ideas? Instead of a father and mother who indulge her every whim, she would find an egotistic man of forty; if she should resist, the man of forty would have the worst of it. So, as an honest man--I withdraw. If there should be any need to explain my visit here, I desire to be entirely sacrificed--”

“If these are your motives, sir,” said the future peer of France, “however singular they may be, they are plausible--”