"In my opinion, M. Meydieux, you annoy my cousin too much, and for no reason. You forget that she has created for herself a position beyond her years, and you treat her like a child not out of the school-room."
"Well, isn't it all for her good?" screamed out Adhemar in a fury. "The rest of you burn incense before her; she will be destroyed by pride and that will be your fault!"
"No such thing," returned Maurice with equal energy. "She is adorable in her simplicity and has remained as really childlike, as trusting and light-hearted as anyone in the world. You cast a gloom on her spirits, you try to curb her spontaneity, you want her bourgeoisie like yourself, but you will never succeed, I give you my word for it, and that is a blessing."
"Oh!" retorted Adhemar, stung to the quick, "What do you mean by that, you fine painter fellow? You are glad enough to have these bourgeoisie that you scorn pay for your pictures!"
"If I make pictures and anybody buys them, that is proof enough that they are idiots. But my hatred of the bourgeoisie only extends to the category to which you belong; those who, ever since they were born, have found their food ready under their noses; those who, never using their ten fingers, never using their brains, live only to increase inherited incomes; hearts locked by greed, narrow minds unwilling to hear the just claims of the humble, of those who work and suffer for them; enemies of progress, enemies of their country."
"Yes, refusing to perform the sole function the State expects of them."
"To become a husband, a father, a parent."
"You are insolent! It is not worth my while to reply to you. You may tell my goddaughter...."
The door opened, and Esperance, who had been kept awake by the noise of their voices, appeared to know what was the matter!
"Ah! there you are. I will say good-bye! Your cavaliers annoy me."
He threw a furious glance towards Jean, who had not spoken a word. It is a fact that the majority of people cherish more rancour against the witness of an insult than against the insulter himself.
"I will not be present at your triumph--as they call it. I am going to your father and shall tell him everything."
"My father, godfather, knows that I always tell the truth; he will await my return to judge my actions and those of my dear comrades."