That evening, with a duplicity of which she would have been incapable a few weeks before, she began to question Madeleine about her sentiments toward Prosper: 

“Ah, ha, mademoiselle,” she said, gayly, “I have discovered your secret.  You are going on at a pretty rate!  The idea of your choosing a husband without my permission!”

“Why, aunt!  I thought you——­”

“Yes, I know; you thought I had suspected the true state of affairs!  That is precisely what I have done.”

Then, in a serious tone, she said: 

“Therefore nothing remains to be done except to obtain the consent of Master Prosper.  Do you think he will grant it?”

“Oh, Aunt Valentine! he would be too happy.”

“Ah, indeed! you seem to know all about it; perhaps you do not care for any assistance in carrying out your wishes?”

Madeleine, blushing and confused, hung her head, and said nothing.  Mme. Fauvel drew her toward her, and continued affectionately: 

“My dear child, do not be distressed:  you have done nothing wrong, and need fear no opposition to your wishes.  Is it possible that a person of your penetration supposed us to be in ignorance of your secret?  Did you think that Prosper would have been so warmly welcomed by your uncle and myself, had we not approved of him in every respect?”

Madeleine threw her arms around her aunt’s neck, and said: 

“Oh, my dear aunt, you make me so happy!  I am very grateful for your love and kindness.  I am very glad that you are pleased with my choice.”

Mme. Fauvel said to herself: 

“I will make Andre speak to Prosper, and before two months are over the marriage must take place.  Madeleine once married, I shall have nothing to fear.”

Unfortunately, Mme. Fauvel was so engrossed by her new passion that she put off from day to day her project of hastening the marriage, until it was too late.  Spending a portion of each day at the Hotel du Louvre with Raoul, and, when separated from him, devoting her thoughts to insuring him an independent fortune and a good position, she could think of nothing else.

She had not yet spoken to him of money or business.

She imagined that she had discovered in him his father’s noble qualities; that the sensitiveness which is so easily wounded was expressed in his every word and action.

She anxiously wondered if he would ever accept the least assistance from her.  The Marquis of Clameran quieted her doubts on this point.

She had frequently met him since the day on which he had so frightened her, and to her first aversion had succeeded a secret sympathy.  She felt kindly toward him for the affection he lavished on her son.

If Raoul, with the heedlessness of youth, mocked at the future, Louis, the man of the world, looked upon it with different eyes.  He was anxious for the welfare of his nephew, and constantly complained of the idle life he was now leading.