" said Clemence, "my poor father, are you better? What
courage you have shown!"

"Come here, my child," replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to her.

Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it.

"Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new
troubles?"

"Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you
have loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you
_must_ find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he
has been to me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate.
Father, my love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have
suffered so much that my life, I feel it! is in danger."

"And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?" cried
Ferragus. "I'd burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may
know what a lover is, but you don't yet know what a father can do."

"Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don't weigh
such different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I
knew that my father was living--"

"If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was
the first to drop tears upon it," replied Ferragus. "But don't feel
frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to rejoice
in the knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, may have
little place in your heart, while you fill the whole of mine."

"Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more,
though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, think
what his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?"

"My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this
threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture to
touch your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware
that a second providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power and
intellect form a phalanx round your love and your existence,--ready to
do all things to protect you. Think of your father, who has risked death
to meet you in the public promenades, or see you asleep in your little
bed in your mother's home, during the night-time. Could such a father,
to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live when a man of honor
ought to have died to escape his infamy, could _I_, in short, I who
breathe through your lips, and see with your eyes, and feel with your
heart, could I fail to defend with the claws of a lion and the so