You're not fifty years old, and he's not
fifteen years younger than you are; quite the reverse!"

"Very well; I'll legitimize him by marrying the young Clementine."

"How can you expect her to acknowledge a child twice as old as she is
herself?"

"But then I can't acknowledge him any better; so there's no need of my
marrying the old woman. Moreover, I'd be excessively accommodating to
break my head for a child who is very likely dead. What do I say? It is
possible that he never saw the light. I love and am loved--that much is
substantial and certain; and you shall be my groomsman."

"Not yet awhile. Mlle. Sambucco is a minor, and her guardian is my
father."

"Your father is an honorable man; and he will not have the baseness to
refuse her to me."

"At least he will ask you if you have any position, any rank, any
fortune to offer to his ward."

"My position? colonel; my rank? colonel; my fortune? the pay of a
colonel. And the millions at Dantzic--I mustn't forget them!--Here we
are at home; let me have the will of that good old gentleman who wore
the lilac wig. Give me some books on history, too--a big pile of
them--all that have anything to say about Napoleon."

Young Renault sadly obeyed the master he had given himself. He conducted
Fougas to a fine chamber, brought him Herr Meiser's will and a whole
shelf of books, and bid his mortal enemy "Good night." The Colonel
embraced him impetuously, and said to him,

"I will never forget that to you I owe life and Clementine. Farewell
till to-morrow, noble and generous child of my native land! farewell!"

Leon went back to the ground floor, passed the dining-room, where Gothon
was wiping the glasses and putting the silver in order, and rejoined his
father and mother, who were waiting for him in the parlor. The guests
were gone, the candles extinguished. A single lamp lit up the solitude.
The two mandarins on the etagere were motionless in their obscure
corner, and seemed to meditate gravely on the caprices of fortune.

"Well?" demanded Mme. Renault.

"I left him in his room, crazier and more obstinate than ever. However,
I've got an idea."

"So much the better," said the father, "for we have none left. Sadness
has made us stupid. But, above all things, no quarrelling. These
soldiers of the empire used to be terrible swordsmen."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of him! It's Clementine that makes me anxious. With
what sweetness and submission she listened to the confounded