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Updated: May 31, 2025
You ought to be very glad that she goes into these enthusiasms for the corsairs of Byron and the heroes of Walter Scott and your own Germans, Egmont, Goethe, Werther, Schiller, and all the other 'ers." "Well, madame, what do you say to that?" asked Dumay, respectfully, alarmed at Madame Mignon's silence.
The dwarf had already made use of an unfavorable feeling lately roused against Monsieur Mignon in Havre in consequence of his reserve and his determination to keep silence as to the amount of his fortune. The persons who were most bitter against him even declared calumniously that he had made over a large amount of property to Dumay to save it from the just demands of his associates in China.
Then she looked at the friends who surrounded her, as if surprised by their silence, and exclaimed in her natural manner, "Why are you not playing?" with a glance at the green table which the imposing Madame Latournelle called the "altar." "Yes, let us play," said Dumay, having sent off Exupere.
"She swore to her mother this morning," said the notary, "in presence of Dumay, that she had not exchanged a look or a word with any living soul." "Then she loves after my fashion!" exclaimed Butscha. "And how is that, my poor lad?" asked Madame Latournelle. "Madame," said the little cripple, "I love alone and afar oh! as far as from here to the stars."
His little eyes, of a calm blue, were like bits of steel. His ways, the look on his face, his speech, his carriage, were all in keeping with the short name of Dumay. His physical strength, well-known to every one, put him above all danger of attack.
About a month before the scene to which this explanation is a parenthesis, Madame Mignon had taken counsel with her friends, Madame Latournelle, the notary, and Dumay, while Madame Dumay carried Modeste in another direction for a longer walk. "Listen to what I have to say," said the blind woman. "My daughter is in love. I feel it; I see it.
Three letters had brought ruin to the Mignons; a single letter now restored their fortunes. Dumay had received from a sea-captain just arrived from the China Seas the following letter containing the first news of his patron and friend, Charles Mignon: To Monsieur Jean Dumay: My Dear Dumay, I shall quickly follow, barring the chances of the voyage, the vessel which carries this letter.
The study, where the cashier and his wife now slept, was panelled from top to bottom, on the walls and ceiling, like the cabin of a steamboat. These luxuries of his predecessor excited Vilquin's wrath. He would fain have lodged his daughter and her husband in the cottage. This desire, well known to Dumay, will presently serve to illustrate the Breton obstinacy of the latter.
Dumay was talking with his wife in the garden under the windows, telling her the secret of their own wealth, and questioning her as to her desires and her intentions. Madame Dumay had, like her husband, no other family than the Mignons.
"If any man, of any age, or any rank," Dumay said, "speaks to Modeste, ogles her, makes love to her, he is a dead man. I'll blow his brains out and give myself to the authorities; my death may save her. If you don't wish to see my head cut off, do you take my place in watching her when I am obliged to go out." For the last three years Dumay had examined his pistols every night.
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