Chương Chương 17 · Some months later, one evening, at old Mademoiselle de Goello’s house,

the Marchioness d’Arlange, looking ten years younger than when we saw

her last, was giving her dowager friends an account of the wedding of

her granddaughter Claire, who had just married the Viscount Albert de

Commarin.

“The wedding,” said she, “took place on our estate in Normandy, without

any flourish of trumpets. My son-in-law wished it; for which I think he

is greatly to blame. The scandal raised by the mistake of which he had

been the victim, called for a brilliant wedding. That was my opinion,

and I did not conceal it. But the boy is as stubborn as his father,

which is saying a good deal; he persisted in his obstinacy. And my

impudent granddaughter, obeying beforehand her future husband, also

sided against me. It is, however, of no consequence; I defy anyone to

find to-day a single individual with courage enough to confess that he

ever for an instant doubted Albert’s innocence. I have left the young

people in all the bliss of the honeymoon, billing and cooing like a

pair of turtle doves. It must be admitted that they have paid dearly

for their happiness. May they be happy then, and may they have lots of

children, for they will have no difficulty in bringing them up and in

providing for them. I must tell you that, for the first time in his

life, and probably for the last, the Count de Commarin has behaved like

an angel! He has settled all his fortune on his son, absolutely all. He

intends living alone on one of his estates. I am afraid the poor dear

old man will not live long. I am not sure that he has entirely recovered

from that last attack. Anyhow, my grandchild is settled, and grandly

too. I know what it has cost me, and how economical I shall have to be.

But I do not think much of those parents who hesitate at any pecuniary

sacrifice when their children’s happiness is at stake.”

The marchioness forgot, however, to state that, a week before the

wedding, Albert freed her from a very embarrassing position, and had

discharged a considerable amount of her debts.

Since then, she had not borrowed more than nine thousand francs of him;

but she intends confessing to him some day how greatly she is annoyed by

her upholsterer, by her dressmaker, by three linen drapers, and by five

or six other tradesmen.

Ah, well, she is all the same a worthy woman; she never says anything

against her son-in-law!

Retiring to his father’s home in Poitou, after sending in his

resignation, M. Daburon has at length found rest; forgetfulness will

come later on. His friends do not yet despair of inducing him to marry.

Madame Juliette is quite consoled for the loss of Noel. The eighty

thousand francs hidden by him under the pillow were not taken from her.

They are nearly all gone now though. Before long the sale of a handsome

suite of furniture will be announced.

Old Tabaret, alone, is indelibly impressed. After having believed in the

infallibility of justice, he now sees every where nothing but judicial

errors.

The ex-amateur detective doubts the very existence of crime, and

maintains that the evidence of one’s senses proves nothing. He

circulates petitions for the abolition of capital punishment, and has

organised a society for the defence of poor and innocent prisoners.