“Confess the truth,” she said to her; “you are afraid to cause some annoyance to Julia.  Now, if that is so, my dear daughter, it is pure folly.  You cannot have any serious scruple on that score.  Julia will be very rich in her own right, and will have no need of your fortune.  She will herself marry in three or four years (much pleasure do I wish her husband, by the way!); and see a little in what a nice situation you will find yourself then!  But, mon Dieu! are we never going to be done with them?  After the father, here is the daughter now!  Eh! mon Dieu! let her erect chapels with her father’s portraits and spurs as much as she likes—­that’s her business; I am certainly not the one to enter into competition with her.  But she must at least allow us to live in peace!  What!  You could not dispose of your person without her leave!  Then if you are her slave, my dear child, show me the door at once!  You could not do anything more agreeable to her for she cannot bear the sight of me, your daughter!  And then, after all, in all candor, what possible objection can she have to your getting married again?  A step-father is not a step-mother; it’s quite another thing.  Eh! mon Dieu! her step-father will be charming to her—­all men will be charming to her; I predict her that; she may feel easy about it!  Now, will you admit that it is the true cause of your hesitation?”

“I assure you that it is not, mother,” said Clotilde.

“I assure you that it is, my daughter.  Well, come; would you like me to speak to Julia, to try and reason with her?  I would prefer giving her a good whipping; however—!”

“Poor, dear mother,” rejoined Clotilde, “must I then tell you everything?”

She came to kneel down in front of the baroness.

“By all means, daughter; tell me everything, but don’t make me cry, I beg of you!  Is what you have to tell very sad?”

“Not very gay.”

“Mon Dieu!  But no matter; go on.”

“In the first place, mother, I must confess that I would personally feel no scruple in marrying again—­”

“I should think not!  That would be carrying it just a little too far!”

“As to Julia—­whom I adore, who loves me sincerely, and who loves you very much too, whatever you may say—­”

“Satisfied of the contrary,” said the baroness.  “But no matter; proceed.”

“As to Julia, I have more confidence than you have in her good sense and in her good heart; notwithstanding the exalted affection she has preserved for her father, I am sure that she would understand, that she would respect my determination, and that she would not love me one whit the less, especially if her step-father did not happen to be personally objectionable to her; for you are aware of the extreme violence of her sympathies and of her antipathies—­”

“I am aware of it!” said the baroness, bitterly.  “Well, you must give her a list of your gentlemen friends, the dear little thing, and she will pick out her own choice for you.”