"I know you but slightly, Captain Bertrand," he answered, "but you are
aware that the man who marries my daughter must be able to give her
her true position in society. Show me the proofs of your nobility and
wealth, and I will entertain your proposition."

"Alas!" answered the young soldier in a faltering voice, "I feel that
I have erred--pity me--forgive me--I was led astray by a passion too
strong to be controlled. I have no name--and my fortune is my sword."

The general bowed coldly, and the young soldier passed out into the
garden. It was a brilliant moonlight evening. Every object was defined
as clearly as if illuminated by the sun's rays. Removing his chapeau,
that the night air might cool his fevered brow, he was about to take
his favorite seat beside the fountain where he had passed many hours
in weaving bright visions of the future, when he perceived that it was
already occupied. An old man in a faded military uniform sat there,
with a little dog lying at his feet. One glance was sufficient--the
next instant Victor folded his father in his arms.

"Father!" "My boy!" The words were interrupted by convulsive sobs.

After the first passionate greeting was over, the old man passed his
hand over his son's dress, and a smile of joy was revealed by the
bright moonbeams.

"A soldier! I thought I heard the clatter of your sabre," said the old
man. "Where did you get these epaulets?"

"At Austerlitz, father--they were given me by the emperor."

"Long live the emperor!" said the old man. "He never forgets his
children."

"No, father. For when he gave me my commission, he said, thoughtfully,
'Bertrand! your name is familiar.' 'Yes, sire--my father served under
the tricolor.' 'I remember--he was one of my old Egyptians.' And
then--father--then he gave me the cross of the legion--and told me,
when I found you, to affix it to your breast in his name."

"It is almost too much!" sighed the old soldier, as the young officer
produced the cross and attached it to his father's breast.

"And now," said the young man, "give me your hand as of old, dear
father, and let me lead you."

"Whither?"

"Into the saloon of the chateau, to present you to General Duvivier
and his guests."

"What! in my rags! before all that grand company?"

"Why not, father? The ragged uniform of a brave soldier who bears the
cross of honor on his breast is the proudest decoration in the world.
Come, father."

Leading his blind father, youn