“Then, then,” stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,--“he has told you----?” “All!” “Oh!” she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a sudden tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual paleness. Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming-- “You are a miracle of devotedness!” “You do not then despise me, sir?” said Marguerite, Venturing to raise her eyes. “Marguerite!” cried Paul, “had I a sister I would pray to heaven that she might resemble you.” “Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister,” she replied, leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears. “Perhaps,” said Paul, smiling. “You know not, then----?” “Proceed.” “That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning.” “I have been informed of that.” “And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed.” “I know that, too.” “Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can I apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? My brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe that others can forget it, and when she has once said, ‘It is my will,’ all that remains to do is to bow down one’s head, to weep, and to obey. My father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from which he has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My father! for any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove a resource: but you know not that he is insane--that he has lost his reason, and with it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, it is ten years since I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not pressed his trembling hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows not that he has still a daughter! he knows not even whether he has a heart, and will not be able even to recognize me. And were he but to know me, and took compassion on me, my mother would place a pen in his hand and would say, ‘Sign that, it is my will!’ and he would sign it--the poor feeble old man! and his daughter would be condemned.” “Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be pacified, that contract never will be signed.” “And who can prevent it?” “I will!” “You?” “Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council.” “Who will present you there?” “I have the means.” “My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?” “Your brother’s person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite. Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me.”