So it is a pressing matter.

People are talking already of a will that cuts off your inheritance; but Monsieur Hochon says there is still time to get it revoked.
Adieu, my little Agathe; may God help you! Believe in the love of your godmother, Maximilienne Hochon, nee Lousteau.
P.S.Has my nephew, Etienne, who writes in the newspapers and is intimate, they tell me, with your son Philippe, been to pay his respects to you?
But come at once to Issoudun, and we will talk over things.
This letter made a great impression on Agathe, who showed it, of course, to Joseph, to whom she had been forced to mention Giroudeau's proposal.
The artist, who grew wary when it concerned his brother, pointed out to her that she ought to tell everything to Desroches.
Conscious of the wisdom of that advice, Agathe went with her son the next morning, at six o'clock, to find Desroches at his house in the rue de Bussy.

The lawyer, as cold and stern as his late father, with a sharp voice, a rough skin, implacable eyes, and the visage of a fox as he licks his lips of the blood of chickens, bounded like a tiger when he heard of Giroudeau's visit and proposal.
"And pray, mere Bridau," he cried, in his little cracked voice, "how long are you going to be duped by your cursed brigand of a son?
Don't give him a farthing.

Make yourself easy, I'll answer for Philippe.

I should like to see him brought before the Court of Peers; it might save his future.