certain Comte de N., who thinks he is making some headway by
calling on her at eleven in the evening, and by sending her
jewels to any extent; but she can't stand him. She makes a
mistake; he is very rich. It is in vain that I say to her from
time to time, 'My dear child, there's the man for you.' She, who
generally listens to me, turns her back and replies that he is
too stupid. Stupid, indeed, he is; but it would be a position for
her, while this old duke might die any day. Old men are egoists;
his family are always reproaching him for his affection for
Marguerite; there are two reasons why he is likely to leave her
nothing. I give her good advice, and she only says it will be
plenty of time to take on the count when the duke is dead. It
isn't all fun," continued Prudence, "to live like that. I know
very well it wouldn't suit me, and I should soon send the old man
about his business. He is so dull; he calls her his daughter;
looks after her like a child; and is always in the way. I am sure
at this very moment one of his servants is prowling about in the
street to see who comes out, and especially who goes in."

"Ah, poor Marguerite!" said Gaston, sitting down to the piano and
playing a waltz. "I hadn't a notion of it, but I did notice she
hasn't been looking so gay lately."

"Hush," said Prudence, listening. Gaston stopped.

"She is calling me, I think."

We listened. A voice was calling, "Prudence!"

"Come, now, you must go," said Mme. Duvernoy.