“Poverty is no disgrace,” said the prince, “and any noble house that has preserved its honour unstained may rise again from its ruins to its ancient height of glory and renown. But why did not the young baron apply to some of his father’s old friends in his distress? or lay his case before the king, who is the natural refuge of all loyal gentlemen under such circumstances?” “Misfortunes such as his are apt to breed timidity, even with the bravest,” Isabelle replied, “and pride deters many a man from betraying his misery to the world. When the Baron de Sigognac consented to accompany us to Paris, he hoped to find some opportunity there to retrieve his fallen fortunes; but it has not presented itself. In order not to be an expense to the troupe, he generously and nobly insisted upon taking the place of one of the actors, who died on the way, and who was a great loss to us. As he could appear upon the stage always masked, he surely did not compromise his dignity by it.” “Under this theatrical disguise, I think that, without being a sorcerer, I can detect a little bit of romance, eh?” said the prince, with a mischievous smile. “But I will not inquire too closely; I know how good and true you are well enough not to take alarm at any respectful tribute paid to your charms. I have not been with you long enough yet as a father, my sweet child, to venture upon sermonizing.” As he paused, Isabelle raised her lovely eyes, in which shone the purest innocence and the most perfect loyalty, to his, and met his questioning gaze unflinchingly. The rosy flush which the first mention of de Sigognac’s name had called up was gone, and her countenance showed no faintest sign of embarrassment or shame. In her pure heart the most searching looks of a father, of God himself, could have found nothing to condemn. Just at this point the doctor’s assistant was announced, who brought a most favourable report from the sick-room. He was charged to tell the prince that his son’s condition was eminently satisfactory—a marked change for the better having taken place; and that Maître Laurent considered the danger past—believing that his recovery was now only a question of time.