ning to rebel against Latin and learning, under pretence that their father cared not a straw whether they were scholars or no.
The Marquise began by taking Père Delar's, arm.
"Father," she said, "I am going to begin with you, My confession will not take long, thank God; yesterday I let my thoughts wander during mass."
"What made them wander, my daughter?"
"I am expecting a letter from Monsieur de Chauvelin, and it has not come."
"I absolve you, daughter, if that is all your fault."
"Yes, that is all," declared the Marquise with the smile of a seraph,—and the Monk withdrew.
"Your turn, Monsieur l'Abbé. The examination would be long and tiresome. If the children are discontented, 'tis because they do not know their lessons. If this is so, and you show me it is so, I shall be forced to scold and punish them. Spare them and spare me; let us put off the trial till a time when it may prove satisfactory for all of us."
The Abbé agreed that the Marquise was right, and disappeared as the Monk had done, whose form could already be seen vanishing beneath the shadows of the long-drawn avenues.
"Your turn now, Bonbonne," said the Marquise; "there is only you left. Shall I find your ruffled brow as easy to smooth and your sad sighs to stifle?"
"I fear not."
"Well, let us see."
"'Tis easy said, but my figures are really terrifying,"
"Well, terrify me; you have never yet succeeded in frightening my privy purse,"
"This month your purse will be frightened, Madame; it will be worse than frightened, it will die of the blow."
"Come, come; have you reckoned up my private savings too?" expostulated the Marquise in a tone that was meant to be bantering,
"Have I reckoned up your savings, Madame? Of course I have; where was the difficulty?"
"But I never told a soul, Bonbonne,"
"'Twere better if you had. But I need not to be told to know."
"To know what?"
"The grand total of your economies."
"I defy you to tell me!" cried the Marquise, turning red.
"If you say so, I need not hesitate; you have twenty-five thousand five hundred crowns as near as may be."
"Oh! Bonbonne," ejaculated the Marquise, as much chagrined as if the Intendant had indiscreetly discovered some painful secret,
"Madame la Marquise does not suspect me, I trust, of having searched her strong-box."
"But then . . . how . . .?"
"How much have you a year for household expenses? Ten thousand crowns. Is not that the sum?"
"Yes."
"And how much do you spend? Eight thousand crowns, I think."
"Yes."
"And is it not ten years that you have been hoarding, seeing it is ten years ago since Monsieur de Chauvelin took up his abode at Court?"
"Yes, again."
"Very well, madame, when the interest is added to the principal you have twenty-five thousand crowns; you must have them,"
"Bonbonne!"
"So much for my guessing!—now, having this money, you will give it to Monsieur de Chauvelin; he has only to ask for it. Then, if you give it him, there will be nothing left for your children, supposing the Marquis should die suddenly.
"Bonbonne!"
"Let us look the thing in the face! Your property is pledged to other uses; Monsieur de Chauvelin's estate owes seven hundred thousand livres."
"He has a fortune of sixteen hundred thousand."
"Granted, but the overplus of the seven hundred thousand will not suffice merely to satisfy the creditors."
"You alarm me!"
"I want to."
"What is to be done?"
"Urge Monsieur de Chauvelin, who spends too much, to make over at once for the benefit of his children, the nine hundred thousand livres remaining; get him to assign them to you as jointure, or arrange for their return to you by making a will ..."
"Making a will? how dreadful!"
"There you are with your silly
