"Stark mad, M. de Rosny. He does not know himself! What
do you think--but it is inconceivable. He proposes to marry my
daughter! This penniless adventurer honours Mademoiselle de
Saintonge by proposing for her!"
"Pheugh!" I said. "That is serious."
"He--he! I don't think I shall ever get over it!" he answered.
"He has, of course, seen Mademoiselle?"
M. de Saintonge nodded.
"At your house, doubtless?"
"Of course!" he replied, with a snap of rage.
"Then I am afraid it is serious," I said.
He stared at me, and for an instant I thought that he was going
to quarrel with me. Then he asked me why.
I was not sorry to have this opportunity of at once increasing
his uneasiness, and requiting his arrogance. "Because," I said,
"this young man appears to me to be very much out of the common.
Hitherto, whatever he has said he would do, he has done. You
remember Crillon? Well, I trace a likeness. St. Mesmin has much
of his headlong temper and savage determination. If you will
take my advice, you will proceed with caution.
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