My niece is not at all the woman to suit you.

Were you richer than M.de Rothschild and more illustrious than the Duke of Malakoff, I would not advise Clementine to marry you." "And why, chaste Minerva ?" "Because you would love her fifteen days, and then, at the first sound of cannon, be off to the wars! You would abandon her, sir, just as you did that unhappy Clementine whose misfortunes have been recounted to us!" "Zounds! Lady Aunt! I _do_ advise you to bestow your pity on _her_! Three months after Leipzic, she married a fellow named Langevin at Nancy." "What do you say ?" "I say that she married a military commissary named Langevin." "At Nancy ?" "At that identical town." "This is strange! "It's outrageous! "But this woman--this young girl--her name?
"I've told you a hundred times: Clementine!" "Clementine what?
"Clementine Pichon." "Gracious Heavens! My keys! Where are my keys?
I'm sure I put them in my pocket! Clementine Pichon! M.Langevin! It's impossible! My senses are forsaking me! Come, my child, bestir yourself! The happiness of your whole life is concerned.

Where _did_ you poke my keys?
Ah! Here they are!" Fougas bent over to Clementine's ear, and said: "Is she subject to these attacks?
One, would suppose that the poor old girl had lost her head!" But Virginie Sambucco had already opened a little rosewood secretary.
Her unerring glance discovered in a file of papers, a sheet yellow with age.
"I've got it!" said she with a cry of joy.

"Marie Clementine Pichon, legitimate daughter of August Pichon, hotel keeper, _rue des Merlettes_, in this town of Nancy; married June 10th, 1814, to Joseph Langevin, military sub-commissary.

Is it surely she, Monsieur?
Dare to say it isn't she!" "Well! But how do you happen to have my family papers ?" "Poor Clementine! And you accuse her of unfaithfulness! You do not understand then that you had been taken for dead! That she supposed herself a widow without having been a wife; that--" "It's all right! It's all right! I forgive her.