tinued:

"My father is an old man who has suffered cruelly. Exile is hard to
bear. But if sorrows and deceptions have embittered his character, they
have not changed his heart. His apparent imperiousness and arrogance
conceal a kindness of heart which I have often seen degenerate into
positive weakness. And--why should I not confess it?--the Duc de
Sairmeuse, with his white hair, still retains the illusions of a child.
He refuses to believe that the world has progressed during the past
twenty years. Moreover, people had deceived him by the most absurd
fabrications. To speak plainly, even while we were in Montaignac,
Monsieur Lacheneur's enemies succeeded in prejudicing my father against
him."

One would have sworn that he was speaking the truth, so persuasive was
his voice, so entirely did the expression of his face, his glance, and
his gestures accord with his words.

And Maurice, who felt--who was certain that the young man was lying,
impudently lying, was abashed by this scientific prevarication which is
so universally practised in good society, and of which he was entirely
ignorant.

But what did the marquis desire here--and why this farce?

"Need I tell you, Mademoiselle," he resumed, "all that I suffered last
evening in the little drawing-room in the presbytery? No, never in my
whole life can I recollect such a cruel moment. I understood, and I
did honor to Monsieur Lacheneur's heroism. Hearing of our arrival, he,
without hesitation, without delay, hastened to voluntarily surrender
a princely fortune--and he was insulted. This excessive injustice
horrified me. And if I did not openly protest against it--if I did not
show my indignation--it was only because contradiction drives my father
to the verge of frenzy. And what good would it have done for me to
protest? The filial love and piety which you displayed were far more
powerful in their effect than any words of mine would have been. You
were scarcely out of the village before Monsieur de Sairmeuse, already
ashamed of his injustice, said to me: 'I have been wrong, but I am an
old man; it is hard for me to decide to make the first advance; you,
Marquis, go and find Monsieur Lacheneur, and obtain his forgiveness.'"

Marie-Anne, redder than a peony, and terribly embarrassed, lowered her
eyes.

"I thank you, Monsieur," she faltered, "in the name of my father--"

"Oh! do not thank me," interrupted Martial, earnestly; "it will be my
duty, on the contrary, to r