en wanting in
respect to you--forgive me--but--"

"I forgive you--only leave me!" said the marshal, hardly restraining
himself.

"One word, general--"

"I entreat you to leave me--I ask it as a service--is that enough?" said
the marshal, with renewed efforts to control the violence of his
emotions.

A deadly paleness succeeded to the high color which during this painful
scene had inflamed the cheeks of the marshal. Alarmed at this symptom,
Dagobert redoubled his entreaties. "I implore you, general," said he, in
an agitated mice, "to permit me for one moment--"

"Since you will have it so, sir, I must be the one to leave," said the
marshal, making a step towards the door.

These words were said in such a manner, that Dagobert could no longer
resist. He hung his head in despair, looked for a moment in silent
supplication at the marshal, and then, as the latter seemed yielding to a
new movement of rage, the soldier slowly quitted the room.

A few minutes had scarcely elapsed since the departure of Dagobert, when
the marshal, who, after a long and gloomy silence, had repeatedly drawn
near the door of his daughters' apartment with a mixture of hesitation
and anguish, suddenly made a violent effort, wiped the cold sweat from
his brow, and entered the chamber in which Rose and Blanche had taken
refuge.

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE TEST.

Dagobert was right in defending his children, as he paternally called
Rose and Blanche, and yet the apprehensions of the marshal with regard to
the coldness of his daughters, were unfortunately justified by
appearances. As he had told his father, unable to explain the sad, and
almost trembling embarrassment, which his daughters felt in his presence,
he sought in vain for the cause of what he termed their indifference. Now
reproaching himself bitterly for not concealing from them his grief at
the death of their mother, he feared he might have given them to
understand that they would be unable to console him; now supposing that
he had not shown himself sufficiently tender, and that had chilled them
with his military sternness; and now repeating with bitter regret, that,
having always lived away from them, he must be always a stranger to them.
In a word, the most unlikely suppositions presented themselves by turns
to his mind, and whenever such seeds of doubt, suspicion, or fear, are
blended with a warm affection, they will sooner or later develop
themselves with fatal effect. Yet, not