nds. What do I require to keep me
alive until the day comes for me to take my place in the graveyard? A
crust of bread and an onion in the morning, a porringer of soup in the
evening, and for the night a bundle of straw. I could easily earn that.
But you, unhappy child! and your brother, what will become of you?"

"We must not discuss nor haggle with duty, my father. I think, however,
that you are needlessly alarmed. I believe the duke is too noble-hearted
ever to allow you to suffer want after the immense service you have
rendered him."

The old servitor of the house of Sairmeuse laughed a loud, bitter laugh.

"You believe that!" said he; "then you do not know the nobles who have
been our masters for ages. 'A., you are a worthy fellow!'--very coldly
said--will be the only recompense I shall receive; and you will see us,
me, at my plough; you, out at service. And if I venture to speak of
the ten thousand francs that were given me, I shall be treated as an
impostor, as an impudent fool. By the holy name of God this shall not
be!"

"Oh, my father!"

"No! this shall not be. And I realize--as you cannot realize--the
disgrace of such a fall. You think you are beloved in Sairmeuse? You are
mistaken. We have been too fortunate not to be the victims of hatred and
jealousy. If I fall to-morrow, you will see all who kissed your hands
to-day fall upon you to tear you to pieces!"

His eye glittered; he believed he had found a victorious argument.

"And then you, yourself, will realize the horror of the disgrace. It
will cost you the deadly anguish of a separation from him whom your
heart has chosen."

He had spoken truly, for Marie-Anne's beautiful eyes filled with tears.

"If what you say proves true, father," she murmured, in an altered
voice, "I may, perhaps, die of sorrow; but I cannot fail to realize that
my confidence and my love has been misplaced."

"And you still insist upon my returning Sairmeuse to its former owner?"

"Honor speaks, my father."

M. Lacheneur made the arm-chair in which he was seated tremble by a
violent blow of his fist.

"And if I am just as obstinate," he exclaimed--"if I keep the
property--what will you do?"

"I shall say to myself, father, that honest poverty is better than
stolen wealth. I shall leave this chateau, which belongs to the Duc
de Sairmeuse, and I shall seek a situation as a servant in the
neighborhood."

M. Lacheneur sank back in his arm-chair sobbing. He knew his dau