"If he will meet me half-way," retorted Laurent, not too genially. He had been taught from his babyhood to hate his elder brother, not only for the latter's political convictions, but because of the wealth which an indiscriminating Fate had chosen to pour down at his feet. It was difficult for a young and impetuous creature like Laurent de Mortain to adapt himself quite so readily to his mother's new mood. "At any rate, promise me that you will not quarrel!" added Mme. la Marquise with unwonted earnestness. At ten o'clock in the forenoon Madame decided that she would receive her son in the noble--if somewhat dilapidated--reception-room where a few gilt-legged fauteuils and the satin-wood parquet floor bore mute testimony to past dignity and grandeur. Half an hour later she wandered out upon the terrace, from whence, she thought, the aspect of the neglected and overgrown garden would of a certainty touch the heart of the visitor and incline him to generosity. At eleven o'clock she thought that the small boudoir--the only living room which she and her family had in use at the present moment--would shame the wealthy son by its air of poverty and of simplicity. At half-past, she was once more inclined to favour the reception-room, and at noon she was back in the boudoir, discussing the question with her brother and with her son, when a heavy and halting footstep was heard in the corridor outside, and the next moment the door was thrown open and Ronnay de Maurel appeared upon the threshold. II He had certainly put on a clean linen blouse, but a blouse it was--just the same as those which his own employes wore at their work--of a faded shade of blue, with wide sleeves and low, turned-down collar, out of which rose his straight, firm neck, strong as a bull's, and crowned by the square, massive head, which he threw up as he entered, with a gesture that implied defiance. He certainly had discarded sabots; a pair of heavy jack-boots reached just below his knees, and dark cloth breeches encased his powerful thighs. His thick brown hair was held in at the nape of the neck with a black ribbon, hastily tied. And--pinned to his blouse--he wore the ribbon of Grand-Eagle of the Legion of Honour, the highest distinction the new Empire could confer. Madame's first sensation on seeing her son was one of horror. She had heard tales of Ronnay de Maurel's uncouthness, of his rough clothes and his bad manners, but in her mind she had--almost involuntarily--associated all these rumoured rude ways of his with a certain picturesqueness, a rough grandeur which she thought would appeal to her.