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"Well!" she would say to his detractors, "don't we all get hard as wegrow old? Why shouldn't he get horny too? Stop telling lies.Mademoiselle lives like a queen. She's alone, that's true; but shelikes it. Besides, my masters have good reasons."

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At last, towards the end of spring, Madame Grandet, worn out by griefeven more than by illness, having failed, in spite of her prayers, toreconcile the father and daughter, confided her secret troubles to theCruchots.

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"Keep a girl of twenty-three on bread and water!" cried Monsieur deBonfons; "without any reason, too! Why, that constitutes wrongfulcruelty; she can contest, as much in as upon,"

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"Come, nephew, spare us your legal jargon," said the notary. "Set yourmind at ease, madame; I will put a stop to such treatment to-morrow."Eugenie, hearing herself mentioned, came out of her room."Gentlemen," she said, coming forward with a proud step, "I beg younot to interfere in this matter. My father is master in his own house.As long as I live under his roof I am bound to obey him. His conductis not subject to the approbation or the disapprobation of the world;he is accountable to God only. I appeal to your friendship to keeptotal silence in this affair. To blame my father is to attack ourfamily honor. I am much obliged to you for the interest you have shownin me; you will do me an additional service if you will put a stop tothe offensive rumors which are current in the town, of which I amaccidentally informed." types of wig

"She is right," said Madame Grandet. types of wig

"Mademoiselle, the best way to stop such rumors is to procure yourliberty," answered the old notary respectfully, struck with the beautywhich seclusion, melancholy, and love had stamped upon her face."Well, my daughter, let Monsieur Cruchot manage the matter if he is sosure of success. He understands your father, and how to manage him. Ifyou wish to see me happy for my few remaining days, you must, at anycost, be reconciled to your father."

On the morrow Grandet, in pursuance of a custom he had begun sinceEugenie's imprisonment, took a certain number of turns up and down thelittle garden; he had chosen the hour when Eugenie brushed andarranged her hair. When the old man reached the walnut-tree he hidbehind its trunk and remained for a few moments watching hisdaughter's movements, hesitating, perhaps, between the course to whichthe obstinacy of his character impelled him and his natural desire toembrace his child. Sometimes he sat down on the rotten old bench whereCharles and Eugenie had vowed eternal love; and then she, too, lookedat her father secretly in the mirror before which she stood. If herose and continued his walk, she sat down obligingly at the window andlooked at the angle of the wall where the pale flowers hung, where theVenus-hair grew from the crevices with the bindweed and the sedum,,awhite or yellow stone-crop very abundant in the vineyards of Saumurand at Tours. Maitre Cruchot came early, and found the old wine-growersitting in the fine June weather on the little bench, his back againstthe division wall of the garden, engaged in watching his daughter."What may you want, Maitre Cruchot?" he said, perceiving the notary."I came to speak to you on business."

"Ah! ah! have you brought some gold in exchange for my silver?""No, no, I have not come about money; it is about your daughterEugenie. All the town is talking of her and you."

"What does the town meddle for? A man's house is his castle.""Very true; and a man may kill himself if he likes, or, what is worse,he may fling his money into the gutter."

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