ting me in the right direction. Love always makes a man better,
no matter what woman inspires it. If you knew Marguerite, you would
understand that I am in no danger. She is as noble as the noblest of
women. There is as much disinterestedness in her as there is cupidity in
others."

"All of which does not prevent her from accepting the whole of your
fortune, for the sixty thousand francs which come to you from your
mother, and which you are giving her, are, understand me well, your
whole fortune."

My father had probably kept this peroration and this threat for the last
stroke. I was firmer before these threats than before his entreaties.

"Who told you that I was handing this sum to her?" I asked.

"My solicitor. Could an honest man carry out such a procedure without
warning me? Well, it is to prevent you from ruining yourself for a
prostitute that I am now in Paris. Your mother, when she died, left you
enough to live on respectably, and not to squander on your mistresses."

"I swear to you, father, that Marguerite knew nothing of this transfer."

"Why, then, do you make it?"

"Because Marguerite, the woman you calumniate, and whom you wish me to
abandon, is sacrificing all that she possesses in order to live with
me."

"And you accept this sacrifice? What sort of a man are you, sir, to
allow Mlle. Gautier to sacrifice anything for you? Come, enough of this.
You will leave this woman. Just now I begged you; now I command you. I
will have no such scandalous doings in my family. Pack up your things
and get ready to come with me."

"Pardon me, father," I said, "but I shall not come."

"And why?"

"Because I am at an age when no one any longer obeys a command."

My father turned pale at my answer.

"Very well, sir," he said, "I know what remains to be done."

He rang and Joseph appeared.

"Have my things taken to the Hotel de Paris," he said to my servant. And
thereupon he went to his room and finished dressing. When he returned, I
went up to him.

"Promise me, father," I said, "that you will do nothing to give
Marguerite pain?"

My father stopped, looked at me disdainfully, and contented himself with
saying, "I believe you are mad." After this he went out, shutting the
door violently after him.

I went downstairs, took a cab, and returned to Bougival.

Marguerite was waiting for me at the window.

Chapter 21

"At last you have come," she said, throwing her arms round my neck. "But
how pale