"Here am I," said Suzanne, sitting down on the bed and jangling the
curtain-rings back along the rod with despotic vehemence.

"Quesaco, my charmer?" said the old bachelor, sitting up in bed.

"Monsieur," said Suzanne, gravely, "you must be astonished to see me
here at this hour; but I find myself in a condition which obliges me
not to care for what people may say about it."

"What does all that mean?" said du Bousquier, crossing his arms.

"Don't you understand me?" said Suzanne. "I know," she continued,
making a pretty little face, "how ridiculous it is in a poor girl to
come and nag at a man for what he thinks a mere nothing. But if you
really knew me, monsieur, if you knew all that I am capable of for a
man who would attach himself to me as much as I'm attached to you, you
would never repent having married me. Of course it isn't here, in
Alencon, that I should be of service to you; but if we went to Paris,
you would see where I could lead a man with your mind and your
capacities; and just at this time too, when they are remaking the
government from top to toe. So--between ourselves, be it said--/is/
what has happened a misfortune? Isn't it rather a piece of luck, which
will pay you well? Who and what are you working for now?"

"For myself, of course!" cried du Bousquier, brutally.

"Monster! you'll never be a father!" said Suzanne, giving a tone of
prophetic malediction to the words.