Our conditions are agreed to, are they not?
Let us say no more on the subject.

I almost wish you to succeed." This scene was so present to the magistrate's mind, that as he sat at home in his arm-chair, though many months had passed since these events, he still seemed to hear the old lady's voice, and the word "success" still sounded in his ears.
He departed in triumph from the d'Arlange abode, which he had entered with a heart swelling with anxiety.

He walked with his head erect, his chest dilated, and breathing the fresh air with the full strength of his lungs.

He was so happy! The sky appeared to him more blue, the sun more brilliant.

This grave magistrate felt a mad desire to stop the passers-by, to press them in his arms, to cry to them,--"Have you heard?
The marchioness consents!" He walked, and the earth seemed to him to give way beneath his footsteps; it was either too small to carry so much happiness, or else he had become so light that he was going to fly away towards the stars.
What castles in the air he built upon what Madame d'Arlange had said to him! He would tender his resignation.