"Bah!" interrupted Maxime, "would it be really sensible in her to
marry? In order to be unhappy, perhaps; there are so many ill-assorted
marriages!"

And coming to a resolution, he added:

"Don't you know what you ought to do? Well, you ought to come and live
with me in Paris. I have thought the matter over. The idea of taking
charge of a child in my state of health terrifies me. Am I not a child
myself, an invalid who needs to be taken care of? You will take care
of me; you will be with me, if I should end by losing the use of my
limbs."

There was a sound of tears in his voice, so great a pity did he feel
for himself. He saw himself, in fancy, sick; he saw his sister at his
bedside, like a Sister of Charity; if she consented to remain
unmarried he would willingly leave her his fortune, so that his father
might not have it. The dread which he had of solitude, the need in
which he should perhaps stand of having a sick-nurse, made him very
pathetic.

"It would be very kind on your part, and you should have no cause to
repent it."

Martine, who was serving the mutton, stopped short in surprise; and
the proposition caused the same surprise at the table. Felicite was
the first to approve, feeling that the girl's departure would further
her plans. She looked at Clotilde, who was still silent and stunned,
as it were; while Dr. Pascal waited with a pale face.