ngthened a period; and when it
is all over, we can break the young woman into all our ways."

"But," interrupted Norbert hastily, "suppose I do not fancy this young
lady?"

"Well, what then?"

"Suppose I should beg you to save me from a marriage which will render
me most unhappy?"

The Duke shrugged his shoulders. "Why this is mere childishness," said
he. "The marriage is a most suitable one, and it is my desire that it
should take place."

"But, father," again commenced Norbert.

"What! Are you opposing my will?" asked his father angrily. "Pray, do
you hesitate?"

"No," answered his son coldly, "I do not hesitate."

"Very good, then. A man of no position can consult the dictates of his
heart when he takes a wife, but with a nobleman of rank and station it
is certainly a different matter, for with the latter, marriage should
be looked upon as a mere business transaction. I have made excellent
arrangements. Let me repeat to you the conditions. The Count will give
two-thirds of his fortune, which is estimated at five millions--just
think of that!--and when we get that, we shall be able to screw and
save with better heart. Think of the restoration of our house, and the
colossal fortune that our descendants will one day inherit, and realize
all the beauties of a life of self-denial."

While the Duke was uttering this string of incoherent sentences, he was
pacing up and down the room, and now he halted immediately in front of
his son. "You understand," said he; "to-morrow you will go to Poitiers,
and on Sunday we will dine at the house of your future father-in-law."

In this fearful crisis Norbert did not know what to say or how to act.

"Father," he once more commenced, "I have no wish to go to Poitiers
to-morrow."

"What are you saying? What in heaven's name do you mean?"

"I mean that as I shall never love Mademoiselle de Puymandour, she will
never be my wife."

The Duke had never foreseen the chance of rebellion on the part of his
son, and he could not bring his mind to receive such an unlooked-for
event.

"You are mad," said he at last, "and do not know what you are saying."

"I know very well."

"Think of what you are doing."

"I have reflected."

The Duke was making a violent effort to compose his ordinarily violent
temper.

"Do you imagine," answered he disdainfully, "that I shall be satisfied
with an answer of this kind? I hope that you will submit to my wishes,
for I think that, as the h