er, but I am a Champdoce, and fear no other mortal
man. Do you understand me?"

"But, Marquis--"

"No other mortal man," interrupted Norbert sternly, "will ever know from
me that we have ever exchanged words together."

An expression passed over the features of the Counsellor which cast a
ray of hope upon the young man's heart.

"Upon my word," said he, "any one would judge from my hesitation that
I had some wrong motive in acting as I am doing, but I never give bad
advice, and any one will tell you the same about me, and this is the
breviary by which I regulate all my actions."

As he spoke, he took a book from his desk, and waved it aloft.

Norbert looked puzzled and angry.

"What do you mean?" asked he.

"Nothing, Marquis, nothing; have patience; your majority is not far off,
and you have only a few years to wait. Remember that your father is an
old man; let him carry out his plan for a few years longer, and----"

Norbert struck his fist savagely upon the table, crying out furiously.
"It was not worth my coming here if this was all that you had to say;"
and, whistling to Bruno, the young man prepared to quit the room.

"Ah, Marquis! you are far too hasty," said the Counsellor humbly.

Norbert paused. "Speak then," answered he roughly.

In a low, impressive voice, Daumon went on.

"Remember, Marquis, that though I should like to see you have a better
understanding with your father, yet, at the same time, I should like
to work for the happiness of you both. I am like a judge in court, who
endeavors to bring about a compromise between the litigants. Can you
not, while affecting perfect submission, live in a manner more suited
to you? There are many young men of your age in a precisely similar
position."

Norbert took a step forward and began to listen earnestly.

"You have more liberty now," continued Daumon. "Pray, does your father
know how you employ your time?"

"He knows that I can do nothing but shoot."

"Well, I know what I would do if I were your age."

"And what would that be?"

"First of all, I would stay at home sufficiently often not to arouse
papa's suspicions, and the rest of my leisure I would spend in Poitiers,
which is a very pleasant town. I could take nice rooms in which I could
be my own master. At Champdoce I could keep to my peasant's clothes, but
in Poitiers I would be dressed by the best tailor. I should pick up
a few boon companions amongst the jolly students, and have plen