ng Monday only, before leaving for his office, casting
upon his wife and daughter one of his ugliest looks:

"M. Costeclar owes us a visit," said he; "and it is possible that
he may call in my absence. I wish him to be admitted; and I forbid
you to go out, so that you can have no pretext to refuse him the
door. I presume there will not be found in my house any one bold
enough to ill receive a man whom I like, and whom I have selected
for my son-in-law."

But was it probable, was it even possible, that M. Costeclar could
venture upon such a step after Mlle. Gilberte's treatment of him on
the previous Saturday evening?

"No, a thousand times no!" affirmed Maxence to his mother and sister.
"So you may rest easy."

Indeed they tried to be, until that very afternoon the sound of
rapidly-rolling wheels attracted Mme. Favoral to the window. A
coupe, drawn by two gray horses, had just stopped at the door.

"It must be he," she said to her daughter.

Mlle. Gilberte had turned slightly pale.

"There is no help for it, mother," she said: "You must receive him."

"And you?"

"I shall remain in my room."

"Do you suppose he won't ask for you?"

"You will answer that I am unwell. He will understand."

"But your father, unhappy child, your father?"

"I do not acknowledge to my father the right of disposing of my
person against my wishes. I detest that man to whom he wishes to
marry me. Would you like to see me his wife, to know me given up
to the most intolerable torture? No, there is no violence in the
world that will ever wring my consent from me. So, mother dear,
do what I ask you. My father can say what he pleases: I take the
whole responsibility upon myself."

There was no time to argue: the bell rang. Mlle. Gilberte had
barely time to escape through one of the doors of the parlor,
whilst M. Costeclar was entering at the other.

If he did have enough perspicacity to guess what had just taken
place, he did not in any way show it. He sat down; and it was
only after conversing for a few moments upon indifferent subjects,
that he asked how Mlle. Gilberte was.

"She is somewhat--unwell," stammered Mme. Favoral.

He did not appear surprised; only,

"Our dear Favoral," he said, "will be still more pained than I am
when he hears of this mishap."

Better than any other mother, Mme. Favoral must have understood and
approved Mlle. Gilberte's invincible repugnance. To her also, when
she was young, her fa