, in answer to one from my niece's father. It will be taken for
granted that we were all asked to the wedding, and Marcoline's affection
for me increased every day.

When we went to sup with Madame Audibert we found a rich and witty young
wine merchant at her house. He sat beside Marcoline, who entertained him
with her sallies; and as the young man could speak Italian, and even the
Venetian dialect (for he had spent a year at Venice), he was much
impressed by the charms of my new niece.

I have always been jealous of my mistresses; but when a rival promises to
marry them and give them a good establishment, jealousy gives way to a
more generous feeling. For the moment I satisfied myself by asking Madame
Audibert who he was, and I was delighted to hear that he had an excellent
reputation, a hundred thousand crowns, a large business, and complete
independence.

The next day he came to see us in our box at the theatre, and Marcoline
received him very graciously. Wishing to push the matter on I asked him
to sup with us, and when he came I was well pleased with his manners and
his intelligence; to Marcoline he was tender but respectful. On his
departure I told him I hoped he would come and see us again, and when we
were alone I congratulated Marcoline on her conquest, and shewed her that
she might succeed almost as well as Mdlle. Crosin. But instead of being
grateful she was furiously, angry.

"If you want to get rid of me," said she, "send me back to Venice, but
don't talk to me about marrying."

"Calm yourself, my angel! I get rid of you? What an idea! Has my
behaviour led you to suppose that you are in my way? This handsome,
well-educated, and rich young man has come under my notice. I see he
loves you and you like him, and as I love you and wish to see you
sheltered from the storms of fortune, and as I think this pleasant young
Frenchman would make you happy, I have pointed out to you these
advantages, but instead of being grateful you scold me. Do not weep,
sweetheart, you grieve my very soul!"

"I am weeping because you think that I can love him."

"It might be so, dearest, and without my honour taking any hurt; but let
us say no more about it and get into bed."

Marcoline's tears changed to smiles and kisses, and we said no more about
the young wine merchant. The next day he came to our box again, but the
scene had changed; she was polite but reserved, and I dared not ask him
to supper as I had done the night