“On my word, almost as pretty as you are,” said the Baron artfully.

“And monstrously droll?  So I have been told.  What does she do, I say?  Is she better fun than I am?”

“I don’t want to talk about her,” said Hulot.

“And I hear she has come round my Crevel, and little Steinbock, and a gorgeous Brazilian?”

“Very likely.”

“And that she has got a house as good as this, that Crevel has given her.  The baggage!  She is my provost-marshal, and finishes off those I have spoiled.  I tell you why I am so curious to know what she is like, old boy; I just caught sight of her in the Bois, in an open carriage —­but a long way off.  She is a most accomplished harpy, Carabine says.  She is trying to eat up Crevel, but he only lets her nibble.  Crevel is a knowing hand, good-natured but hard-headed, who will always say Yes, and then go his own way.  He is vain and passionate; but his cash is cold.  You can never get anything out of such fellows beyond a thousand to three thousand francs a month; they jib at any serious outlay, as a donkey does at a running stream.

“Not like you, old boy.  You are a man of passions; you would sell your country for a woman.  And, look here, I am ready to do anything for you!  You are my father; you started me in life; it is a sacred duty.  What do you want?  Do you want a hundred thousand francs?  I will wear myself to a rag to gain them.  As to giving you bed and board—­that is nothing.  A place will be laid for you here every day; you can have a good room on the second floor, and a hundred crowns a month for pocket-money.”

The Baron, deeply touched by such a welcome, had a last qualm of honor.

“No, my dear child, no; I did not come here for you to keep me,” said he.

“At your age it is something to be proud of,” said she.

“This is what I wish, my child.  Your Duc d’Herouville has immense estates in Normandy, and I want to be his steward, under the name of Thoul.  I have the capacity, and I am honest.  A man may borrow of the Government, and yet not steal from a cash-box——­”

“H’m, h’m,” said Josepha.  “Once drunk, drinks again.”

“In short, I only want to live out of sight for three years—­”

“Well, it is soon done,” said Josepha.  “This evening, after dinner, I have only to speak.  The Duke would marry me if I wished it, but I have his fortune, and I want something better—­his esteem.  He is a Duke of the first water.  He is high-minded, as noble and great as Louis XIV. and Napoleon rolled into one, though he is a dwarf.  Besides, I have done for him what la Schontz did for Rochefide; by taking my advice he has made two millions.

“Now, listen to me, old popgun.  I know you; you are always after the women, and you would be dancing attendance on the Normandy girls, who are splendid creatures, and getting your ribs cracked by their lovers and fathers, and the Duke would have to get you out of the scrape.  Why, can’t I see by the way you look at me that the young man is not dead in you—­as Fenelon put it.—­No, this stewardship is not the thing for you.  A man cannot be off with his Paris and with us, old boy, for the saying!  You would die of weariness at Herouville.”