All present, and more especially Onésime, were struck by the firm and resolute manner in which Sabine expressed herself, and felt that, whatever her decision might be, it would unquestionably prove unalterable. "You saw me born, Suzanne," continued the young girl, after a moment, "and by your untiring care and faithful devotion you made yourself my mother's valued friend. It is in the name of this friendship that I adjure you to tell me if the memories of my infancy have deceived me, and if it was not my father who, twelve years ago, dressed as I saw him three days ago, caused--caused my mother's death." "Alas! mademoiselle--" "In the name of my sainted mother, I adjure you to tell me the truth, Suzanne." "The truth is, mademoiselle," replied the housekeeper, in a trembling voice, "the truth is, that, after a stormy scene between your parents, madame died; but--" "Enough, my dear Suzanne," said Sabine, interrupting her. Then, passing her hand across her burning brow, she relapsed into a gloomy silence that no one dared to break. "Segoffin," she said, at last, "you were my grandfather's faithful servant and trusted friend. You watched over my father in childhood; at all times, and under all circumstances, you have been blindly devoted to him. Is it true that my father, instead of being engaged in business as he said, has been privateering under the name of Captain l'Endurci?" "Yes, mademoiselle, it is true," Segoffin answered, smothering a sigh. After another brief silence, Sabine said: "M. Onésime, I owe it to myself and I owe it to you to inform you of my determination. In happier days there was some talk of a marriage between us, but after what has occurred, after what you know and have just heard, you will not be surprised, I think, to hear me say that this world is no longer any place for me." "Good Heavens! what do you mean, mademoiselle?" cried Onésime, in dismay. "I have decided to retire to a convent, where I intend to end my days." Onésime did not utter a word, but sat with his head bowed upon his breast, while quick, heavy sobs shook his frame. "No, mademoiselle, no! That is impossible," sobbed Suzanne. "No, surely you will not thus bury yourself alive." "My mind is made up," answered Sabine, firmly; "but if such a sojourn does not seem too gloomy to you, my dear Suzanne, I should be glad to have you accompany me." "I shall never leave you. You know that very well, mademoiselle, but you will not do this, you will not--" "Suzanne, for two days I have been reflecting upon the course I ought to pursue. There is nothing else for me to do, so my resolution is irrevocable." "And your father, mademoiselle," interposed Segoffin, "before you separate yourself from him for ever you will surely see him once more." "No." "Then, from this day on, you are dead to him and he is dead to you." It was evidently with a violent effort at self-control that Sabine at last replied: