ltered through the
blinds he saw his mother dressed in black, and with an air of solemnity
in keeping with that funereal room.

"Monsieur le vicomte," she said when she saw him, rising and taking his
hand to lead him to his father's bed, "there died your father,--a man of
honor; he died without reproach from his own conscience. His spirit
is there. Surely he groaned in heaven when he saw his son degraded by
imprisonment for debt. Under the old monarchy that stain could have been
spared you by obtaining a lettre de cachet and shutting you up for a
few days in a military prison.--But you are here; you stand before your
father, who hears you. You know all that you did before you were sent
to that ignoble prison. Will you swear to me before your father's shade,
and in presence of God who sees all, that you have done no dishonorable
act; that your debts are the result of youthful folly, and that your
honor is untarnished? If your blameless father were there, sitting
in that armchair, and asking an explanation of your conduct, could he
embrace you after having heard it?"

"Yes, mother," replied the young man, with grave respect.

She opened her arms and pressed him to her heart, shedding a few tears.

"Let us forget it all, my son," she said; "it is only a little less
money. I shall pray God to let us recover it. As you are indeed worthy
of your name, kiss me--for I have suffered much."

"I swear, mother," he said, laying his hand upon the bed, "to give you
no further unhappiness of that kind, and to do all I can to repair these
first faults."

"Come and breakfast, my child," she said, turning to leave the room.

CHAPTER XII. OBSTACLES TO YOUNG LOVE

In 1829 the old noblesse had recovered as to manners and customs
something of the prestige it had irrevocably lost in politics. Moreover,
the sentiment which governs parents and grandparents in all that relates
to matrimonial conventions is an imperishable sentiment, closely allied
to the very existence of civilized societies and springing from the
spirit of family. It rules in Geneva as in Vienna and in Nemours,
where, as we have seen, Zelie Minoret refused her consent to a possible
marriage of her son with the daughter of a bastard. Still, all social
laws have their exceptions. Savinien thought he might bend his mother's
pride before the inborn nobility of Ursula. The struggle began at once.
As soon as they were seated at table his mother told him of the horrible