"I have only one thing to ask you, Monsieur Mouillard."

"Further respite, I suppose? Time to reflect and fool me again? No, a
hundred times no! I've had enough of you; a fortnight, not a day more!"

"No, sir; I do not ask for respite."

"So much the better, for I should refuse it. What do you want?"

"Monsieur Mouillard, I trust that Jeanne was not present at the
interview, that she heard none of it, that she was not forced to blush--"

My uncle sprang to his feet, seized his gloves, which lay spread out on
the table, bundled them up, flung them passionately into his hat, clapped
the whole on his head, and made for the door with angry strides.

I followed him; he never looked back, never made answer to my "Good-by,
uncle." But, at the sixth step, just before turning the corner, he
raised his stick, gave the banisters a blow fit to break them, and went
on his way downstairs exclaiming:

"Damnation!"


May 20th.

And so we have parted with an oath, my uncle and I! That is how I have
broken with the only relative I possess. It is now ten days since then.
I now have five left in which to mend the broken thread of the family
tradition, and become a lawyer. But nothing points to such conversion.