without your
consent. Here once more as in the Engadine, I say, 'Either he or no
one.'"

"Did I not warn you that when once a formula has been pronounced, one is
apt to keep on repeating it forever?"

"Either he or no one: that is my last word. Would you not rather that it
should be he? Are you willing to accept him?"

"I will submit."

"With a good grace?"

"With resignation."

"With cheerful resignation?"

"I shall certainly do my best to acquire it; or, rather, if he makes
you happy, I shall welcome him all the days of my life; in the contrary
case, I will repeat, morning and evening, like Mme. de Lorcy: 'You would
not listen to me; you ought to have believed me.'"

"It is agreed; you are a good father, and now we are in perfect
harmony," she replied, impulsively seizing his two hands, and pressing
them in her own.

He watched her a moment between his half-closed eyes, and then he cried,
half resentfully:

"But, _mon Dieu_ why do you love this man?"

She replied, in a low voice: "Because I love him; this is my sole
reason; but I find it good."

"Certainly most decisive. But, come, let us go quickly," he replied,
rising. "I fear that my retorts and crucibles, if they listen to
you much longer, will fall into a syncope as prolonged as that of M.
Larinski. Was ever such a debate heard of in a chemical laboratory?"

As soon as dinner was over, M. Moriaz made ready to repair to Maisons,
where Abbe Miollens passed the summer in the vicinity of Mme. de Lorcy.
Mlle. Moiseney followed him to the carriage, and said:

"You have a remarkable daughter, monsieur! With what courage she has
assumed her role! With what resolution she has renounced an impossible
happiness! Did you observe her during dinner? How tranquil she was! how
attentive! Is she not astonishing?"

"As astonishing as you are sagacious," he replied.

"Ah! undoubtedly; I never thought that she loved him so much as you
imagine I did: but he pleased her; she admired him. Did she ever utter a
word of complaint, or a sigh, on learning the cruel truth? what strength
of mind! what equability of temperament! what nobility of sentiment! You
do not admire her enough, monsieur; you are not proud enough of having
such a daughter. As to me, I glory in having been of some value in her
education. I always made a point of developing her judgment, and putting
her on her guard against all erratic tendencies. Yes, I can safely say
that I took great pains to cul