"Madame, when Fauvel objected to what I desired to see done, he had his
reasons for objecting. They weren't worth much, it is true, but--they
existed. Perhaps you would also favour me with your reasons?"
Mme. de Beaudrillart folded her hands and looked at the floor. How was
it possible to say to this man, "You yourself are the reason?" But he
forestalled her.
"I understand, madame. You wish to express to me that Madame Leon
cannot boast of Ancient birth, and that I made my money by trade. All
that is perfectly true. At the same time, I wish to point out that,
however it was made, the money has not been unacceptable. Moreover,
whatever my daughter was born, she is now a Beaudrillart."
Mme. de Beaudrillart remained absolutely silent. It was Nathalie who
spoke with an attempt at gaiety.
"It appears to me that I might be allowed a word, and I don't think
anything would be so irksome to me as having my portrait painted.
Besides--eighty years! The gap is too great. It is very kind of you,
father, but do not think more about it."