“You silly fool,” he said. Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate. . Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. She hesitated. She had found that proof. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke.
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